Sweet Revenge
by JenBurch
Summary: Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don’t have season two yet :
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** They're not my, but oh boy if they were…! ;-) 

**A/N:** Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don't have season two yet. 

Please read and review, I love hearing what everyone thinks. This is my first Supernatural fanfic, so fingers crossed that it goes well.

Special mention to TraSan for turning me from an avid watcher to a total and complete addict to the show and the fics!!! And for inspiring me to write this fic, thanks chic!

**Chapter One: An Innocent Beginning**

Sam and Dean were on the road one again, having just dealt with an evil witch doctor who thought that he could heal people by treating them and then putting them to the final test… getting them to take the final leap of faith to prove their trust and fling themselves off a small cliff, telling them that he had the power to protect them the whole way down. Sam had been convinced that he knew what he was doing and had just let the power go to his head, whereas Dean was certain that he had bought into his own party line and thought he really was God.

Now, the usual problem arose almost immediately. Where to go? No, that's not it. What to kill next? Nope, not the problem either. Who to drive? No, but you're getting warmer. What music to listen to? Yup! That's the one! Dean always insisted on listening to his music stating that it was his right not only as the eldest but the owner and driver of the car. Well, Sam thought, he would just have to teach him a lesson on that one. Sam popped in Dean's favourite tape and was determined to see how often he could stand to play it before Dean was finally sick of hearing the same songs over and over again. He was pretty certain that he could last longer than Dean, since Sam had always been the more patient of the brothers… most of the time.

"Seriously man, you're just gonna have to get used to the music," Dean insisted, staring out at the road ahead. It was a long, open and more than empty road. No other traffic had been sighted for hours, and there were no houses and very few trees. It was almost desert-like, and nothing could be more boring. "If you tried, you would get to realise that I have The Best taste in music."

"If you can call it that," Sam muttered under his breathe. He found a particularly old cassette and laughed holding it up for Dean to see. "The Beatles? You have got to be kidding me, now I really have seen everything!"

"That's not mine," Dean insisted.

"Oh really," Sam laughed, not believing him. "So, Metallica and… The Beattles? Yeah, I totally see the connection man… Enter Sandman and… The Yellow Submarine? Totally the same vibe! It's gotta have something to do with their hair too, right?"

Dean gritted his teeth, seething quietly. He hated being teased about his music, it was like kicking his car door shut, it was just something you did not do!

"No, wait, you're gonna tell me it was Dad's, arent you?" Sam asked, still laughing.

"Actually, that's exactly what I'm going to say," Dean told him, trying really hard to keep his cool.

"But, see, the problem with that is that I happen to know Dad quite well, see… and, well, he hates The Beatles.…" Sam laughed, honestly knowing no such thing. In actual fact, his father had never really seen the point in music in general, he had preferred to just get from point A to point B with minimal intrusion, he was completely focussed on the next hunt.

Dean was blushing, which made Sam's joke so much more fun. He had to wonder, though, how long Dean would stew over it before discovering that Sam had, in fact, hidden the cassette tape in the box more than three hunts ago. Sam bit his lip as he moved to put his knew plan into action and pulled out the tape he'd been looking for. Ahh, Metallica, maybe soon you will be sleeping with the fishies if Dean got sick enough of the same songs over and over.

As the music started blaring, Sam waved the tape at Dean one last time before tossing the box into the back seat. As he turned around he was met with Dean whacking him gently on the arm, trying to be good-natured about his latest tease.

Sam chuckled to himself but as he faced the road again, his smile faded. He could see a figure standing in the road, right in their path, a fair distance from their car. From the fabric flapping in the wind, he knew it was a woman.

Would she get off the road?

Dean didn't seem to even notice. He didn't ease up on the gas or try and break or anything. Sam could feel himself tensing as they got closer and closer. Suddenly she was right in front of them and time seemed to stand still for Sam. Dean didn't break, Sam cried out and launched himself at the steering wheel, jerking it to the left to try and miss her. Dean, not understanding what was going on, threw Sam over to his side of the car and tried to regain control of the Impala as its wheels locked and sent them spinning out of control.

Thankfully, with no trees and no traffic, there was also no damage to the car. Dean sighed his first breath of relief and turned to Sam to ask him what the hell he had been thinking, only to find Sam sitting way back in his seat as if pinned down by something. He was pale and shaking and had a look of absolute terror in his eyes. He was also fighting for breath and turning purple. Dean couldn't see anything that could explain his brothers reaction and wondered if he was hurt somehow.

"Sam?" he called out to him, trying to snap him out of it or at least get him to tell him what was going on so he knew how he could help him.

Sam gasped and gurgled, trying to get his breathe, but sitting in his lap was the woman he had been trying to steer the car away from. Who would have thought that it was actually a spirit? Why couldn't Dean see her? And what was she doing there? Why was she so far from home? And what was she saying to Sam? Sam knew only one thing: Jessica was pissed.

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Ten minutes later, Dean was growing more and more concerned about Sam with every second that passed. He had leapt out of the passenger side of the car mere seconds after he had been 'pinned' to his seat, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to speak. And now, as he ran across the road, up and down the street, everywhere he could think of, he looked like a madman.

"Where'd she go?" he kept asking, not so much Dean as… Dean wasn't sure who he was talking to, or who he was talking about.

"Sam!" Dean yelled after him, tired of chasing him everywhere and getting no answers.

Sam just continued on his search.

"Sam!" Dean cried, finally stopping his brother in his tracks. He wasn't sure if Sam had stopped because of him, but he didn't care. He was finally standing still and Dean had to take advantage of that. He ran over to where Sam stood in the middle of the road, staring at the sky with his brow furrowed and tears shining in his eyes. "What's going on man?"

Sam didn't even seem to hear him.

"Sam," Dean touched his arm, trying desperately to gain his attention. He was starting to get really scared, and that wasn't an easy thing for him to deal with. It was as if Sam were not even standing before him, he was trapped inside himself and couldn't seem to get out. He was still gasping for breathe, but now it seemed out of anxiety rather than his throat being constricted by some unknown force or entity. "Sammy?"

Sam's eyes slowly drifted from the sky down to meet his brothers gaze. He saw concern and something else that he had never really noticed before. A glint. No, not a glint. A shadow, almost. Dean's eyes seemed to have grown darker and…

"Sammy?" Dean repeated, still not satisfied that Sam had come back to him.

"Did you see her?" Sam asked him, his voice low and thick. His eyes were still teary and Dean wasn't used to seeing him that way. Being the youngest he did tend to be the more emotional of the brothers, a bit more sensitive and definitely more prepared to talk about his feelings – especially if he could make Dean squirm by trying to get him to talk about his own feelings – but tears were a little more out of character than any of that.

"Did I see who?" Dean asked, confused.

"She was… there was a… woman, standing in the road…" Sam pointed lamely a few feet from where they stood. He walked over there as if to show Dean. "She… we hit her, and…"

"Is that why you pulled on the wheel?" Dean asked, trying to follow what Sam was saying and reconcile it with what had happened in that car minutes before. "To miss the woman?"

"She was just standing there," Sam nodded. "Then she wasn't…"

"Where was she?"

"In the car…"

"In… the car?"

"Yeah, she… I couldn't breathe… she was…" Sam stopped and bent over double, resting his hands on his knees as if to steady himself. He was breathing hard again, as if by sheer memory his throat had started to close up on him once more. Suddenly, from the opposite side of the road to where they had left the Impala, something seemed to catch Sam's eye. Suddenly, as if in a trance he began to move across to see what it was.

Time froze as Dean watched his brother walking slowly and his ears desperately tried to identify a familiar sound. Dean looked up and saw a truck bearing down on Sam, and Sam was completely unaware that he was in its path. Dean felt himself move before he realised what he was doing and the next thing he knew, he and his brother were sprawled on the side of the road. As Dean felt the air from the fast moving truck he knew exactly how lucky he and Sam were to be alive, and he thanked his reflexes. He couldn't have survived losing Sam.

"Dean, what the hell?!?" Sam snapped, suddenly realising what had happened. It was like he had suddenly been thrown back to reality and he paled when he saw the rear end of the truck that had nearly taken his life.

Dean got to his feet, his face turning red.

"What the hell were you thinking!?!?" Dean yelled down at his brother. He was pissed as hell, angry and scared all at once and he didn't like it. He didn't like whatever it was that was going on with Sam all of a sudden. He felt like he was playing catch up, like he was there in the car with Sam and yet had somehow missed some huge, life altering event and he hated to be behind. "What has gotten into you, Sam! Didn't you see the damn truck!?!?! You could've been killed!"

Sam looked around him, trying to work out what was going on so he could give his brother an answer, but he was just as confused.

"Well?" Dean shouted once more, hoping to get somewhere with this line of question. Sam looked so small from where he sat on the road, and Dean hated seeing his brother look small, but he had a height advantage in this argument for once and he intended to use it. The tears that sprung to Sam's eyes, however, stopped him in his tracks and he didn't know what to do or what to say. He knelt before Sam and put his hand on his shoulder, hoping that the contact would ease his brothers emotions enough for him to tell him what had happened.

Sam just looked at him, helpless.

"I don't know what's going on," Sam admitted, his voice catching. "I saw a woman in the middle of the road, and when we hit her she was in my lap and I couldn't breathe… I think we just found ourselves our next hunt…"

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So, read, review and let me know what you think! I got the idea for this story from the Woman in White episode at the start of season one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **They're not my, but oh boy if they were…! ;-)

**A/N:** Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don't have season two yet. 

**Chapter Two: The Nightmare of Death**

Dean carried the bags from the boot of the Impala into the motel room they had just checked into. He had never gone into a hunt thoroughly confused before, but there was always a first time for everything. Normally, he didn't know quite what was going on but there was usually more information than there was a woman standing in the middle of the road.

Sam, however, was standing in the middle of the room looking confused. He kept looking at the ceiling as if it held all the answers, but he didn't seem to have any further idea what was supposed to happen next. Usually, at the beginning of a hunt, Sam was all over the research and the fact that he looked completely lost had Dean concerned. Had more happened out there on that deserted road than Sam had told him?

Dean coughed loudly, as if to clear his throat, but instead Sam seemed transfixed by the ceiling.

"Well, from what you described, Sammy, I think we're dealing with a woman in white," Dean told him, trying to get him to move into research mode. "A woman in a white dress, standing along the side of the road… I definitely think we're dealing with a woman in white…"

Sam shook his head to say he disagreed, but didn't say anything to explain why.

"Well, Sam, it's the best we've got to go on right now… why don't you start some research on that road and see if you can find any women who have died there? If not, broaden your search to this area and see what you can come up with…" Dean instructed. Sam still didn't move, and Dean was fast moving passed concern and into frustration. This Sam was different to the dazed Sam that he had been yelling at on the road. This Sam standing before him was the same Sam he had joined with when their dad had gone missing so long ago.

Dean finally clicked. This was about Jessica. That first case they went on was about a woman in white, and soon after Jessica had died. No wonder Sam seemed a little freaked out, it probably brought back all kinds of memories for him. Dean sighed and moved to his brothers side.

"Why don't you get some rest," Dean suggested, keeping his voice low and soft, trying to let Sam know that he had forgotten his anger and now was moving into Understanding Brother Mode instead. Dean was going to try and be a little more understanding in this case, since it was obviously a sore spot for Sam. He had to make sure he kept it together so that they could deal with whatever kind of spirit this was.

Sam looked down at Dean.

"Huh?" he asked, confused.

"Sam, you gotta get some rest man. You're getting a little whacked out here and honestly I don't like it," Dean admitted. "Get some sleep, I'll get on with some research and I'll wake you up for some dinner later okay?"

Sam nodded, obediently, but he wasn't too sure of what he was agreeing to. Dean pushed him gently over to one of the beds and when Sam stared at it like he didn't know what it was for, Dean sighed and helped Sam sit down.

"Sleep, little brother," Dean told him. "I'll wake you up later."

"I'm not tired," Sam argued.

"You look exhausted," Dean insisted. "At least lay there and close your eyes… humour me, okay?"

Sam sighed, and lay down, muttering something under his breath.

"What was that, kiddo?" Dean asked, knowing full well what he had said and smiling at the 'bossiest brother in the world, you don't own me and you aint the king of me' comment.

"Nothing," Sam denied, rolling over and closing his eyes.

By the time Dean was seated at the little table near Sam's bed with the laptop set up, Sam was snoring softly behind him. He was fast asleep. Dean turned back to his research and settled in for the long haul. He hated research and had never been as good at it as Sam. Being full of family responsibility left him without the opportunity to go to school like Sam had. Even as a kid he had been so busy taking care of Sam and training with his dad, and then later hunting with his dad, that he had never really had much of a life outside of that. If they were to win the war against evil tomorrow, he would be lost, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

Dean stared at the computer screen for a minute long before deciding that he needed supplies before he could expect himself to do anything productive. He didn't want to leave Sam alone after the weird freak out on the road, but they needed food and he needed beer.

Grabbing the keys and locking the door behind him, Dean went off in hunt of a shop.

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Sam and Jessica were walking along the street near the home they shared together. They were hand in hand, smiling at each other. They were talking, but Sam wasn't sure what about, and he didn't care. He had Jessica by his side again, and he hadn't been this happy in a long time. He stopped on the sidewalk, eliciting a surprised look from Jessica, and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight whispering in her ear how glad he was to see her and touch her. He looked down into her eyes, kissing each eye and her nose before moving to her lips and savouring how soft they felt against his. He had forgotten how warm her kisses were, how soft and sweet she felt pressed against him. His entire body ached as if he would die if he let her go.

"God I've missed you," Sam murmured against her kisses. Jessica pulled away from him, confused.

"Why have you missed me?" she asked him. "I've been here the whole time."

They were in their bedroom now, laying on the bed together. Jessica was laying atop Sam, kissing him gently and reminding him how much she loved him. She laid herself down beside him and was stroking his chest with her fingers.

Sam felt tears spring to his eyes as he felt the warm drops on his face. Looking above him reluctantly he saw Jessica still pinned to the ceiling, screaming out his name although he couldn't hear her. She was still bleeding and on fire, and he realised he couldn't move.

"How long are you going to leave me up there, anyway?" Jessica asked from where she had laid her head on his chest.

Once more the room was engulfed in flames and Sam waited as he cried out for Jessica. This was the part where Dean would run in and drag him out of the room, saving him from dying with his beloved girlfriend. That's what had happened in reality, but in reality there had also been only one Jessica. In all of Sam's nightmares, though, Dean had always woken Sam by now too, as if to save him again.

Sam waited.

Nothing.

No Dean.

Sam tried to cry out for him, but no noise would escape his throat. He couldn't breathe again, he couldn't move, it was just like when he had been trapped in the car earlier that day.

That day. Sam's mind was in overdrive, and yet he couldn't wake up. His eyes were glued to both Jessica's who were now burning before him, one pinned to the ceiling, one straddled on top of him, smiling cruelly down at him.

"When are you going to let me down, Sam!?!?" she screamed at him, her voice changing from the loving tones she had used earlier to one that would cause Sam the most pain.

Jessica's hands were around his throat, squeezing hard. Sam raised his hands to hers to pry her off of him, but stopped short when he saw his skin blistering and peeling as the fire burned through him. His heart raced and his mind was no longer capable of working out what was going on any more, he was left scared and confused, in pain as he burned to death with no hope of rescue.

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Dean pulled up in the Impala out the front of the motel room where he had left Sam only fifteen minutes ago. He had made good time, he decided, as he pulled the shopping out of the car and hoisted the cans of beer onto his hip. He walked carefully toward the room, trying not to drop anything when suddenly he became aware of something very wrong.

There was a smell.

It was familiar.

The scent was faint, but it dragged memories from deep within his mind where he had forced them to stay and he was forced to realise what the odour was. His mother pinned to the ceiling. Burning. Jessica pinned to the ceiling. Burning. Sam laying helpless on the bed beneath both women at different times in his life, unable to move and needing his help.

Dean stared at the door a moment longer in disbelief. He dropped the groceries, no longer caring what broke or squished, only caring that he could get to his brother before it was too late. Too late for what, he didn't know. What he was going to be walking in on he didn't know. But he didn't care, he only cared about Sam.

Dean pushed the key into the lock and reached for the doorknob, but it was so hot it singed his hands the instant he touched it. He covered his hand with his jacket and tried again, this time managing to get the door open.

Shielding his face from the expected flames, Dean burst into the room smelling smoke so strong he almost couldn't breathe. But there was no fire. Nothing seemed wrong or out of place, except that Sam was still asleep on the bed and he looked terrified. He seemed to be having serious trouble breathing and was once again turning purple, but he wasn't moving. Dean figured he was having a nightmare, but normally he would thrash and cry out to him when he had bad dreams. He had always called for Dean during a nightmare, ever since they were little. Dean had always known what to do and how to calm him, but now Dean was worried. Sam's nightmares had never come with the gift of scent before. He assumed that the woman in white had triggered the nightmare of Jessica's death and, even though he knew Sam still dreamt about that he had stopped talking about it, but now Dean could smell the smoke. What was going on?

Dean stood over Sam and reached out to shake him awake. Sam, and his sheets, were soaked as if someone had dumped bucket loads of water on him as he slept. Dean reached out to touch him, but was thrown back by the heat Sam's body was giving out. It was if he was on fire, and Dean realised that something was seriously wrong, and it wasn't just the nightmare.

Something had trapped Dean's little brother in that room with Jessica as she burned to death, and Dean didn't know what would happen if he couldn't get him out.

Dean once again covered his hand with his jacket and was determined to wake Sam, whatever it took.

"Sam!"

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Sam looked down at his body as it changed from pink, to red, to burnt black. He was sick with pain, wanted to scream but couldn't get any noise to come from his throat as Jessica squeezed harder and harder. He should have died from lack of oxygen by now, he knew, but somehow it seemed fitting that he should burn. He was cursed after all. His mother. His girlfriend. Why not him?

He watched as layers of his skin blistered and broke and peeled away and wondered how much longer it would take.

Suddenly a voice broke through.

Dean.

He was calling out to Sam, trying to get to him. He was late, but Sam should have known that he would eventually come for him. Jessica's eyes darted from his to the doorway where Dean would have stood if it had been reality, but he wasn't there. He was out of this whacked out dream land that Jessica had trapped Sam in, and his voice was enough to break through.

Jessica let out a scream of rage and frustration as she reached out once more to Sam, trying to keep her hold on him.

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"Sam!" Dean cried again, more desperately this time. Suddenly Sam sat straight up in bed, breathing in a deep and painful breathe, tears spilling freely from his eyes. His skin looked strange, pale yet pinkish red like he was hot. He mouth hung open in a silent scream as his eyes darted around the room as if searching for something. Dean was terrified, more than he had ever been in his life; he had never seen Sam like this. Ever.

"Dean?" Sam called out, as if he couldn't see his brother standing beside him. Dean sat on the bed next to him, touching his arm to let him know he was there.

"I'm right here, Sammy," Dean told him. Sam flinched as if Dean's touch had been painful, and now Sam was looking down at his arms before pulling his knees up to his chest and hanging his head in his hands. The tears came harder and faster now, Sam's body racked with great sobs that had never been released before. He had been a baby when their mother had died, and he'd never cried for that. He had never let himself cry for losing Jessica, he had merely set out for revenge against The Demon; and finally revenge against any evil thing that moved. Now it was as if all the tears that Sam had never been able to shed in his entire life were spilling out all at once.

Dean didn't think twice before putting his arms around his brother and holding him tight while he cried. He knew this had to have happened some day, but he hadn't expected it to happen like this. What had Sam been dreaming about?

"I'm right here, Sammy," Dean repeated, feeling that Sam needed to hear it again.

It was some time later before Sam had calmed down enough to speak. Dean collected the groceries and opened a can of beer each, handing one to Sam. Dean figured that it couldn't hurt to give him something that could cool him off and possibly calm his nerves, and Dean was willing to try anything. Dean had also stripped the sheets off the bed and replaced them with the spares he had found in the cupboard and now they were both sat on the bed, on opposite ends, waiting as if not sure who should speak first.

Dean realised that he was too afraid to ask the questions he had to ask. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers: what had Sam really been dreaming about? Was there more to this story than he knew? What would happen next? Dean had figured that Sam had dreamed of burning to death himself, and Dean wanted to know if this dream had felt like any of the others that had come true in the past and if so what could they do to stop it… but on the off chance that the answer was yes, Dean wanted to remain in denial where it was safer than knowing there was a good chance that his brother was going to die.

Sam downed half his beer in the first go and then laid back against the wall and sighed. His head hurt from crying and he felt ashamed of his outburst of emotions. He knew that Dean hated talking about his feelings and never liked dealing with any 'chick flick' stuff, and Sam thought he would judge him for it. He didn't want to look at him and see that judgement, so Sam avoided his gaze altogether, hoping that eventually Dean would realise that there wasn't going to be a conversation and leave him alone.

"You know we have to talk about this eventually," Dean told him, breaking the silence.

Sam said nothing.

"Sammy, look at me," Dean told him. When Sam didn't look up, Dean reached over to him and touched his arm. "I mean it, Sammy… look at me…"

Finally Sam looked up. Dean was taken aback by the look in his eyes. Normally there was a spark in them that made his jokes funnier and his puppy dog look more pathetic, but now they just looked empty. It was like everything that had made him Sam had died and all that was left was a shell. That look scared Dean more than anything else, even the nightmare that seemed to have had a grip on Sam for so long that he couldn't save him from it. Now it looked like Sam had given up. Or lost.

"I'm sorry," Sam told him, his voice flat.

"For what?" Dean was confused.

"I know how much you hate to talk about things, and… crying, I just…" Sam looked down again, and Dean knew he was ashamed.

"Sammy, you don't ever have to apologise for that," Dean told him, a lump forming in his throat as he realised that his own issues had forced Sam to think he was alone in dealing with his grief. He had been raised most of his life by his father who hadn't liked to show his emotions for fear that he would scare the boys by letting them know that he didn't have all the answers. Dean had ended up much the same way to try and protect Sam, but now he realised that it had become habit and had left Sam feeling like he had no one to talk to.

When Sam said nothing and didn't move to look at him again, Dean sighed.

"Sam, tell me what's going on," he probed. "Please tell me… I need to know what's happening."

Sam looked up at him. He opened his mouth as if to answer his brothers question, but stopped and shook his head instead. He couldn't even begin to form the words he needed to make Dean understand what he was thinking or feeling, and especially not what he had seen.

Dean realised that he wasn't going to get anywhere right now. He decided the nightmare was still too fresh in Sam's mind and thought it was best to let him recover before pushing the subject again. But he refused to let him think he was on his own any more.

"Lets have something to eat and do some research then," Dean decided, getting to his feet. "You can tell me about it when you're ready…"

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This chapter's pretty heavy, but lots of brother stuff in there. Hope you like it, feel free to let me know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** They're not my, but oh boy if they were…! ;-)

**A/N:** Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don't have season two yet. 

**Chapter Three: A Hunt Through Town**

Dean and Sam had gone to bed late that night, but Sam hadn't stayed asleep for long. The second he closed his eyes he was assaulted by memories of Jessica's evil smile, her fiery death, and his own burnt flesh and decided it wasn't worth it for a couple of hours of fitful sleep. Instead he had gotten up and tried to do the research he and Dean had never gotten around to. He had tried to research Jessica's death but all he found were reports of a fire apparently caused by electrical sparks, the same as what they had said about his mothers death so many years ago. Apparently they hadn't gotten any more creative with their explanations in unexplained situations, and Sam sighed in frustration. So far, all he knew was what they already knew about their mothers death and they weren't getting any further with that either.

So Sam moved on to the only thing he could think of: to research the town and find out if anyone had died on that road or in unusual circumstances like Jessica. There had to be some connection, some reason that she was there. Ghosts don't just haunt for no reason, they're always stuck in that place or time, there's always some connection.

Sam searched in vain and gave up when the sun began to rise. He would have enjoyed the view if the circumstances were different. He and Jessica had always liked sunsets and sunrises. They used to find any excuse they could when their lives weren't too busy to go and watch the sun as it woke up in the morning or went to bed at night. It was beautiful and romantic, and they would snuggle together and whisper to each other their plans for the future. Since her death he had refused to watch a sunset, but on the odd occasion that they were driving and he caught a glimpse of the different colours in the sky, he was reminded of those moments with the woman he had intended to marry, and he would smile a sad smile knowing that they would never share that again. Now he knew that no matter what, he would never enjoy another sunset or sunrise for as long as he lived. He would remember Jessica with that cruel smile, his beautiful Jessica had been ruined forever.

It felt like he was losing her all over again.

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Dean awoke a few hours later, when it was still early, and decided he would jump in the shower and be ready to go before Sam woke up so that his little brother would get as much sleep as possible. He was worried about his state of mind after seeing the deep depression he had fallen into. He knew he wasn't capable of doing something stupid, but his judgement was always off when The Demon became involved in a hunt and Sam was willing to sacrifice his own life as long as he could take The Demon down with him. The Demon wasn't directly involved in this hunt, but Dean was worried that the same rules may still apply.

He looked over at Sam's bed to see if he was okay, and felt fear grip his chest when he realised that he was missing. The bathroom door was open, so he knew that Sam wasn't in there, the bed didn't even look slept in, barely creased since Dean had re-made it the night before, and the laptop was closed and on the table. The door of the motel looked like it was propped open, and Dean hurriedly pulled his jeans on over his boxers and rushed to the door with bare feet and bare chest. He stood on the road outside the room and looked around for his brother, feeling slightly dizzy with fear that something had happened. Had that damn ghost gotten a hold of Sam again somehow? Was it possible that she wasn't restricted to that deserted road? Was that dream Sam had really just a dream?

"Morning," Sam greeted him, coming from the reception office with a bucket of ice and a jug of water. He was fully showered and dressed, but his complexion still looked strange, like he was sick. "How'd you sleep?"

Dean could tell that Sam was trying to force himself to sound cheerful to make him happy, to assure him that there would be no more Chick Flick moments, but he wanted to tell him to knock it off, to just tell him what was going on and let him help. But Dean remembered his silent promise to Sam, to be more gentle and understanding with him. He couldn't push him to talk if he didn't want to.

"I slept like a baby, considering," Dean answered in defeat. "How about you?"

Sam ignored the question and walked inside.

"The lady that runs this place is pretty nice," he babbled instead. "She said that if we wanted fresh water for our room they have a supply from this place that bottles it for them and we could have as much as we want."

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Dean asked, grabbing onto Sam's arm as he straightened from putting the water away and grabbing a beer. Dean saw the tired shadows under Sam's eyes and realised that he not only looked exhausted but close to death. "Dude, you look really bad."

"Gee, ta," Sam snapped back, cracking his beer and taking a swig.

"You're drinking at this time of the morning?" Dean asked, surprised. "You barely drink as it is."

"What's your point?" Sam asked.

"My point is, Sammy, that we're on a hunt and it's not a good idea to get drunk right now… and its never a good idea to hide your problems in booze," Dean added reluctantly, hoping that Sam wouldn't get angry with him. He wanted to protect Sam from everything, including the possibility of ending up with a drinking problem. It was an easy trap to fall into, Dean remembered his father telling him that after his mother died.

"I'm just having one, Dean, lighten up," Sam snapped. Dean looked for the angry flare in Sam's eyes that he always got when he was mad, but there was nothing. He was still flat and empty. Damn it, Dean thought. I gotta get this boy back to normal. "The waters not cold yet, and I'm thirsty."

Dean decided to drop it.

"So what did you end up doing last night?" he asked instead.

"Research," Sam answered, pulling a bottle of aspirin from his pocket. He had presumably been able to scam that from the woman who ran the motel as well. He popped open the bottle and poured two tablets into his hand. "You know nobody has ever died on that road? Isnt that weird?"

Sam popped the pills into his mouth and washed them down with beer.

"Great," Dean muttered. "Now you're taking medication with alcohol… are you trying to kill yourself or what?"

Sam rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored the comment.

"Not only has nobody every died on that road, but they've never had a car accident bigger than a fender bender in the local car park," Sam added. "This town is pretty big for a small town, but the speed limits are really low – you'll hate it here!"

Sam chuckled at his last comment, but Dean knew that it was forced for his benefit. His brother was fast going off the deep end and Dean couldn't understand why.

"Well, since you're up and I'm up, how about we go and get some breakfast and ask around the town some more," Dean suggested. "There has to be something, Sam. I've never known a ghost to haunt without leave some sort of a trail."

Sam knew that Dean wasn't going to get anywhere, but didn't argue. Instead he downed the last of his beer and tossed the empty can into the trash, grabbed the bottle of aspirin in case he needed some while he was out and followed his brother out the door.

Dean saw a flash of something in Sam's eyes and got the distinct impression that there was something going on that Sam wasn't sharing. He didn't like secrets, especially in a hunt, but he decided to wait a little longer and see if Sam told him on his own. He didn't want to pull the 'I'm the oldest, I'm in charge, now tell me what you know' card unless he absolutely had to.

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An hour later they were presented with bacon, eggs and toast at a little café they found in town. Dean was amazed at how up to date this 'small town' was. Other towns like this were way behind the times, but this place, Bellsburrow, was just like any city but without the big buildings and pesky traffic. The convenience of one without losing the convenience of the other.

Dean found himself ravenously hungry and he dived into his breakfast like he would starve, but stopped mid-chew when he realised that Sam wasn't eating. He was pushing the food around on his plate as if he were disgusted by it. He loved bacon and eggs, Dean couldn't understand why he was looking at it like it was going to jump up and bite him.

"You okay man?" Dean asked him, swallowing his food and reaching for his orange juice.

Sam looked up at him.

"Yeah, just not that hungry I guess," he sighed, putting his fork down and leaning back in his chair.

"At least drink your juice, get some sugar in your system, or you're going to crash," Dean told him. "And drink your water, flush out some of that beer."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam snapped. Dean looked at him, surprised. He wasn't normally one to jump so easily to anger. "You think I have a problem just because I had a beer this morning?"

"You had a beer at 7:30am, man, that's not normal and it's certainly not you," Dean told him, trying to calm Sam down and trying to hold onto his own temper. "Look, let's just forget about it for now, but humour me and drink your OJ and your water… at the very least you have to have something in your stomach so you don't get weak later."

Sam scowled at him, but obliged.

When Dean was finished with his breakfast and realised that Sam wasn't going to eat any of his, he got up to pay. They were out on the street within minutes and walking in silence around the town. Neither were sure where to start and decided to just wonder for a while and see about what was in town. As they passed an ice cream parlour, Dean was struck by inspiration and lead Sam inside. He made him sit by the window while he went up to the counter. A pretty young blonde girl, about Sam's age, was serving and she smiled up at him eagerly when she saw him. Crush on first sight, Dean recognised, but was barely willing to acknowledge it. He was far too stressed to care whether a beautiful woman was paying attention to him or not.

"Hi," he greeted her, smiling back at her. "I was wondering if you could do something special for me…"

Sam started out the window, resigned to sitting where he was but not sure why. Nothing caught his eye and he realised that this town seemed really boring to him. No real reason for that, he knew. In fact it would normally have been somewhere he would like, but he couldn't wait to leave. He wanted to run as fast as he could away from this place, but he had a feeling that what he would be running from would easily keep pace.

Dean returned a moment later and handed him a bowls with four different types of icecream, two toppings, strawberries, cherries and banana's, and chocolate sprinkles.

"What is that?" Sam asked, looking at the enormous and colourful concoction.

"Sammy's Banana Split Ala Dean," Dean told his brother, grinning at him. "I used to make that for you for breakfast when you had a bad night or if Dad didn't come home when he was supposed to and we were scared… it was always our secret, Dad would've killed us!"

Sam laughed, and even though his stomach was churning just at the sight of it, Sam ate it to make Dean happy. He seemed so proud of coming up with the idea of making Sam a childhood favourite, Sam couldn't bare the thought of disappointing him. As the icecream and… everything else, mixed with his squeamish stomach, however, Sam knew it wasn't going to last.

Sam looked at Dean as if to apologise and then ran for the bathroom out the back of the ice cream shop.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Dean muttered, disappointed and feeling a bit guilty that he had effectively made Sam sick. He exchanged glances with the girl behind the counter and shrugged. "Who knows, maybe he's pregnant?" Dean laughed.

The girl smiled and went back to work.

Realising that Sam may be a while, Dean decided to start where he was and approached the girl.

"Can I ask you a question?" Dean asked her. She smiled again and nodded, blushing prettily. "I heard that there had never been a car accident in this town… is that true?"

"Yes sir," she nodded. "There was a fender bender once about five or ten years ago when Old Mac bumped his car into a cop car, but he doesn't drive anymore and he was about 90 years old at the time."

"Yeah, that'd do it," Dean smiled. "But isnt that strange? To have never had an accident, I mean."

She shrugged.

"I don't know," she sighed. "I guess we're just lucky. The speeds are really low until you're well out of town, so maybe that's what it is."

"Maybe," Dean sighed, wondering if there really was nothing to it. Maybe Sam had just imagined what he had seen. "Has anybody died in any strange way?"

"Like how?" the girl asked, looking confused now.

"Like in a fire, or murdered, or maybe out on that little road just outside of town?"

"Peakhill Road?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"No, nobody's ever died out there," she answered him. "And come to think of it, we don't we really have any other strange stories to tell either… although there was a story about a coloured gentleman who lived out the way, and he happened to be working on his tractor when it got loose and ran over him…"

"And?"

"And what? He died…"

"But were there any… rumours or stories about him afterwards?"

"Like what?"

"Like, has anyone seen him since he died?"

"No, he was dead."

Dean sighed, realising that this town was like the Brady Bunch of towns. He was doomed, there was no way he was getting information out of this place. It was the strangest hunt he had ever been on, a complete lack of information. The only thing they had to go on was a big fat zero and whatever it was that Sam had seen.

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Sam looked at himself in the mirror and was shocked at what he saw. His eyes were empty with shadows around them, his cheeks were hollow and he looked really pale. Now he was worried. Before he knew something strange was going on, and he knew that Dean was worried about him, but looking at himself in the mirror he suddenly looked ill, surprisingly skeletal and it had all happened overnight.

He moved carefully back out to find Dean, moving slowly as he felt like he was wading through quicksand or honey or something.

Find Dean, find Dean, find Dean.

Dean was standing at the window, staring out at the townspeople as they went about their lives like they lived in Fairy Floss World or something, when he heard something behind him. He turned to see Sam making his way shakily towards him. He stumbled into a table and nearly tripped over a chair, as if he couldn't see properly.

"Dean?" Sam called gruffly, his voice hoarse.

"Sam," Dean rushed to his brothers side, putting his arm around his waste to take Sam's weight from him.

"I think something's wrong," Sam finally admitted, slumping against Dean. He was conscious, but weak, and Dean knew he had to do something.

"Is there are doctor?" he asked the girl behind the counter.

"Two blocks over," she called.

Dean decided to get Sam to the car first since it was across the road and he didn't want to have to take his weight for two whole blocks. He looked out for traffic and virtually carried Sam to the car. Once he was settled, Dean rushed to the drivers side and didn't bother with his seat belt. Instead he just hit the gas and made it the two blocks within a minute.

Getting Sam back out of the car proved harder that getting him into it. He seemed to have lost even more strength, and somehow seemed even paler. It was as if he were wasting away, as if something were sucking the life out of him, and it hadn't failed to catch Dean's attention when he had touched Sam's skin how hot he had been. He was right, something was definitely wrong.

Moments later they were in the doctors office, having jumped the queue of snotty kids and skinned knees, and the doctor was checking Sam's eyes and ears. His eyes were extremely sensitive to the light, and he was showing signs of an ear infection which could have explained why his balance was off. As for everything else, the doctor appeared confused.

"Sam, have you taken anything?" he asked.

Sam shook his head, no.

"He had two aspirin this morning with a can of beer," Dean corrected Sam's statement. Sam didn't even seem to hear him as he stared somewhere behind Dean.

"Does he drink often?" Doc, as he liked to be called, asked.

"No, barely ever," Dean told him seriously.

"Why is it that he's started to drink now?"

"I don't know," Dean answered. He looked over at Sam, knowing that something had to be said if they were going to get anywhere. Maybe this did have something to do with Jessica, maybe it didn't, but he wasn't a doctor, he couldn't make that decision. "His girlfriend died in a fire almost a year ago… he was there, but I got him out… he's been having nightmares about it ever since but lately they've gotten worse."

"Lately?"

"Since yesterday."

"When all of this started?" Doc suggested. Dean nodded and Doc sighed. "Sam has a temperature of 104.5, which concerns me to say the least… but his blood pressure is also really low and he looks like he's lost a lot of weight… has he slept?"

"No," Dean admitted again, feeling like he had let Sam down. He knew that he was still having nightmares about Jessica, but he thought that it was normal and with time it would settle down. He didn't think it would make him physically sick. "Doc… he was perfectly healthy yesterday, but…"

"But?"

Dean hesitated. He was risking everything now. Normally they hold true to the cone of silence, they include no one in their investigations but Dean suddenly wondered if they were really on a hunt or if maybe what Sam had seen on that road had been another symptom of his illness. Maybe he'd been hallucinating.

"Yesterday, he thought he saw a woman on the road on our way into town… she disappeared, but Sam drove us off the road thinking we were going to hit her…" Dean sighed, rubbing his temples. "Did I miss something, Doc? Is he really sick?"

Doc looked back at Sam.

"We don't know much right now," he admitted. "Something's attacking your brother's body and right now all we can do is treat the symptoms and run some tests."

Sam looked over at Dean and saw him watching him. He smiled at him, looking happy for a change. Dean realised that Sam was suddenly looking passed him and Dean turned around. Seeing nothing, he turned back to Sam, a question in his eyes.

"Sam, what is it?" he asked.

"Do you see her?" Sam asked. "Isnt she beautiful?"

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Well, what do you think? I hope you like it, I'm really enjoying writing it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** They're not my, but oh boy if they were…! ;-)

**A/N: **Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don't have season two yet. 

**Chapter Four: Laying, Waiting, Watching, Dreaming…**

Dean sat uncomfortably in a chair beside Sam's bed. He had been sedated and was on a drip to replace the fluids in his body that he had been missing, and antibiotics to bring down his temperature. Dean couldn't remember ever feeling so helpless before. Even when he was a child taking care of Sam, he had always known what to do, and now he was just lost and confused. What was wrong with his brother? Was he sick or was something attacking him? Or, worse, was he… dying?

Dean felt tears spring to his eyes as he realised that there was nothing he could do for Sam anymore, that he had to do something he had never done before: trust someone else to take care of his brother. That was new to him, he was accustomed to trusting only Sam, and being the only one who could ever really care for him. Even their father, when Sam was young, was never around to take care of him. Instead he had left Dean there to do the job of a parent, and then when something happened, their father would hold him responsible as if he were a grown up and should have known better. True enough, Dean knew he should have known better, but he had been a child himself and his father had dumped too much on his shoulders.

Still, Dean had failed Sam.

A nurse came in to check Sam's vitals and saw Dean sitting there.

"I'm sorry, sir, but visiting hours are over, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she told him politely.

"No," Dean told her flatly.

"I'm sorry, sir, but…" She stopped when Dean flashed her a warning look. Visiting hours didn't apply to him, no way was he leaving his brothers side. "Never mind…"

Dean looked back at Sam and waited. Doc had taken blood several hours ago, and he hadn't been back since. It was only a small town, and with the complete and utter lack of, not only car accidents, but excitement, there couldn't possibly be that much of a queue.

As if on cue, Doc appeared in the doorway, smiling at Sam. It seemed like nothing could stop that man from grinning from ear to ear, like the Cheshire Cat.

"Hi Dean," he greeted him, shaking his hand. He turned to the unconscious Sam. "Hi Sam."

Dean decided to ignore his strange behaviour and get on with it.

"So, Doc, how'd those tests go?" Dean asked.

"Well, there's no sign of infection, no sign of anything for that matter. We are worried about his temperature, if it keeps rising like this he could have any number of complications," Doc answered him. Dean raised his eyebrows as if to ask for more information, so Doc continued. "Well, for starters, he could have seizures, end up brain damaged, paralysed, or in a coma… and eventually his whole body could basically shut down and he could die."

Dean swallowed as a lump formed in his throat and his legs suddenly felt like jelly. He reached for his chair unsteadily, but missed and Doc had to help him sit down. Finally, Doc looked concerned.

"Dean, are you feeling okay?" Doc asked. "Are you experiencing any of the symptoms your brother has had?"

Dean shook his head.

"The weakness just now…"

"You tell me my brother might die or be a vegetable, what do you expect?" Dean asked, trying to sound normal while catching his breath.

"Oh," Doc sighed, relieved. "That's all it is."

"That's… all it is? Are you serious?!?" Dean snapped, his energy renewed as he flew out of his chair and backed Doc up against a wall as he couldn't contain his emotions anymore. He fear and concern and guilt for Sam turned into anger that was aimed directly at the doctor standing before him. "That's my brother in that bed, he's my family! Do you get that?!?"

"Dean, I'm sorry," Doc admitted, leading Dean back to his seat. "You have to understand, I'm not used to family members being that concerned about illnesses around here. Don't forget that all we ever have are skinned knees…"

"Then maybe I should move my brother to a bigger, better equipt hospital," Dean suggested. He knew it sounded like it was a threat, but he only meant it as a suggestion to ensure that Sam was well cared for.

"I wouldn't recommend moving Sam right now," Doc discouraged him. "He's not stable enough to be moved, but if need be we can get one of the big wigs from the city in here to look at him."

Dean nodded, agreeing that that's the best course of action at this point in time.

"Now, as for you, are you sure you don't want to go home and rest?" Doc suggested.

"No, I want to be here…" Dean answered in such a way that there was no room for argument. "I need to be here in case he wakes up."

"He wont be awake until tomorrow, I assure you…"

"Sorry, Doc, but we've defied your type before… I was supposed to die, you know," Dean smiled, remember how much Sam had gone through to save him. He had been lucky, Sam was the expert at research, but if it came down to it this time, Dean wasn't sure he'd be able to do the same for Sam.

He settled back into his chair and leaned forward, taking hold of Sam's hand in his as if offering his on life force to flow into his brother and help him to build his strength.

"Come on Sammy," he whispered to his brother. "Hang in there…"

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Sam was sitting in the big beautiful bedroom that he knew to be his and Jessica's. He looked around, knowing that he had worked hard to buy her her dream home. He had graduated law school and was now a successful and expensive lawyer, who also made a point of taking only enough clients to live and buy Jessica the things that would make her happiest, like he had today, and the rest of his work was probono, to help those who couldn't afford lawyers and ended up with dodgy men trying to score a quick deal and screw their clients at the same time.

Sam looked down at his hands as they lay in his lap nervously. He was absentmindedly fidgeting with the gold band around his finger… they were married. He smiled and jumped to his feet, moving around the room looking at photo's from their wedding. Jessica in a beautiful, sleeveless wedding gown, her golden hair curled elegantly down her back. She was stunning. More than stunning, she was breathtaking. Sam couldn't stop grinning down at her.

He saw a photo of their bridal party and something struck him as odd but before he could put his finger on what it was, the bathroom door flew open and Jessica stood before him.

"So?" Sam asked, eager for her answer.

Jessica was beaming, tears shining in her eyes as she nodded her answer at him. He flew toward her, excited and happy and overwhelmed all at once, and she cried and laughed a screamed in delight as he scooped her into his arms and spun her around the room.

As he set her on the ground, Jessica grinned up at him.

"You're going to be a Daddy," she touched his cheek. "How do you feel?"

"Like the luckiest man alive," Sam told her. "I never thought I'd ever…" He stopped, feeling the lump in his throat and instead of trying to speak, simply leaned down and kissed his wife.

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Dean awoke with a start at 3am, when he heard a strange noise. He jumped blindly to his feet, unable to figure out where he was. He looked around, trying to work out what that noise was and when his eyes adjusted to the dark he saw Sam in the hospital bed and sank back into his seat in defeat. He'd managed to forget for a moment that his brother was sick and now he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this stuff up.

Dean stretched and decided it was time to make a phone call. He walked out of the room and across the hall to where there was a payphone. He picked it up, dropped in some money and dialled the familiar number.

"Dad, it's… ah, it's Dean," he began, clearing his throat. "We're in, um, Bellsburrow and…" He felt tears spring to his eyes. He had never cried – or almost cried – so much in his life. "Dad, Sam's really sick… the doctors say that he could die or, um… he could just be a vegetable or whatever and… I don't know what to do…" He was crying over the phone to his father and wanted to kick himself for being so weak, but he couldn't help it. His brother was dying. "I don't know what's going on, Dad, but somethings strange here and we don't know what it is… and Sam's really bad and I feel so helpless…" Dean hesitated. He had never left such a long message before. "Dad, we need you here… I cant do this by myself, please come…"

Dean hung up the phone and tried to compose himself before going back inside the room. The minute he stood in the doorway and saw his brother lying helplessly in what could possibly be his deathbed, however, brought a fresh bout of tears to his eyes.

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Sam awoke the next morning with his wife curled up in his arms. She felt warm and comfortable, and he felt safer than he had ever felt before. He tried to remember feeling safe any other time, and he knew there was something nagging at the back of his mind trying to remind him of a time when he felt like that. Protected. Safe. When was that?

Jessica shifted and yawned, stretching in his arms before rolling over to face him. She smiled that beautiful smile of hers and snuggled in closer to him.

"Could there be anything more perfect than this?" she asked him.

"I doubt it," Sam agreed. "This is pretty damn perfect…"

"You know you have to let me down one day, don't you?" Jessica asked, her voice sounding distant.

Sam sat straight up in bed, his heart hammering as he lept out of bed and stood staring at her, searching for any sign of evil or cruelty in her. He looked at the ceiling, expecting to see blood and flames, but there was nothing.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"I said that you're the only one whose never let me down, Sam," Jessica repeated herself carefully, making sure she was misunderstood. "Are you okay?"

Sam sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm fine, sorry… I just…" he looked back at his wife, his beautiful, pregnant wife. "I don't know, something's nagging at my mind like I've forgotten something."

"What do you think it is?" Jessica asked.

"I don't know," Sam admitted helplessly. "It's like remembering a dream, or another life…"

Jessica sighed, getting to her knees before him on the bed and reaching for his hands.

"Do you want to worry about that now, or later?" she asked, smiling alluring up at her husband.

"Hmmm, let me think about that a moment," Sam smiled, leaning down to kiss Jessica.

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Doc woke Dean at 10am the following morning. Dean knew that a nurse had been through a few times during the night, and half wished that he had been sedated too so he could have slept through it. He was absolutely exhausted, but was glad that the doctor was back and hoped he'd have some answers.

"Doc, how is he?" Dean asked, jumping to his feet.

"Well, his temperature's 102 now, so it's come down a little," Doc told him. "It's still too high, though, and it has me concerned, but the fact it has shifted is an important sign."

"Good…" Dean agreed, nodding, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Something else has me concerned," Doc admitted. He waited as if considering whether or not he should mention anything to Dean or to wait it out and see what happened. He knew that Dean wouldn't allow him to leave the room without telling him everything he knew, so he took a deep breath and delved in. "Sam's not awake."

"I know he's not, you sedated him," Dean told him, uncertain of where he was going with this.

"You don't seem to understand, the sedative we gave him yesterday morning was fairly mild. We gave him one dose so he could sleep because of his fever, and an even lighter dose to get him through the night… but he should have woken up by now, and he hasn't even shown signs of it," Doc explained.

"Is he in a coma?" Dean asked, turning to look at Sam.

"Well, no… I don't think so at least…" Doc sighed, rubbing his temples. Dean suddenly realised that Doc had been at the hospital all night. That was what had woken him up earlier that night, he had come in with the nurses each time to check up on Sam. "This is like nothing I've ever seen… I don't think…"

Doc hesitated.

"You don't think what?" Dean asked, a warning tone to his voice.

"Dean, I don't think he wants to wake up…"

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Sam brought Jessica breakfast in bed later that morning. She had had a hankering for bacon and eggs, so he rushed out to buy what he needed and set about cooking her breakfast. As the aroma of bacon filled the house, something tugged at the edges of his memory once again. As he picked up the plate and turned to walked out of the kitchen his brothers face flashed before his minds eye. Why was he thinking of Dean?

Dean.

Dean.

Dean.

Something about his brother was calling out to him.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sam turned his attention to his immediate concern – feeding a pregnant woman always had to be number one. He smiled, and hurried to the bedroom.

"Here, Jess," he announced breakfast as he laid it across Jessica's lap and handed her a rose with a kiss.

"Oh, wow…" Jessica thanked him gratefully. "This looks amazing. Aren't you having any?"

"No, I'm not that hungry," Sam assured him, walking over to the photo he had seen the day before that had bothered him. "Jess, why wasn't Dean my best man?"

"Dean?"

"My brother, Dean."

"Um, because he wasn't there, Sam."

"He wasn't?"

"No… Don't you remember?"

Sam shook his head, confused. Why wouldn't Dean have come to his wedding, it didn't make sense.

"Was my dad there?"

Jessica shook her head, no.

Sam wasn't really that surprised his father hadn't gone, they had fought last time they spoke and that was years ago. But Dean should have been there. Sam turned and picked up the phone, dialling the number, only to discover it was disconnected and there was no other number to reach him on. Sam took a deep breath and dialled his dad's number instead, knowing that they were usually off hunting something together anyway.

Dad's number was disconnected too.

Sam racked his brains a minute longer and remembered Pastor Jim's number, knowing that his father checked in with him more often that any of his other friends.

There was an answer after several rings.

"Hi, this is Sam Winchester, I'm looking for Pastor Jim?" Sam announced.

"I'm sorry, Pastor Jim is no longer with us."

"Oh, well, do you have another number for him that I can reach him on? I'm an old friend."

"No, I'm afraid not. You don't seem to understand, Pastor Jim has gone on ahead to be with the Lord."

Sam dropped the phone in the cradle. Pastor Jim was dead. Did that mean…?

"Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"Why wasn't Dean at our wedding?"

"Well, he came to our house a few years ago and asked you to help him with your dad or something, I don't really know what that was about, but basically you told him that your dad was a big boy and would be able to take care of himself…" Jessica explained. "We never heard from Dean again after that."

Sam went suddenly pale, knowing what that meant. Dean had gone after that weeping woman on his own and gotten himself killed.

Seconds later, Sam was bent over the toilet heaving with grief, pain, guilt and regret, What had he done?

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Dean stood over his brother, wondering what he could possibly do now. He knew there was no medical explanation for what was going on now, other than his fever might be damaging his brain and preventing him from waking up, but that was not an acceptable explanation for Dean. Sam was not brain damaged. He was not brain dead, the machines told them that much. He was going to come back to him if Dean had to find a way in there himself and drag him out.

Dean just had to figure a way to do it.

"Do you think he knows we're even here?"

"I hope so," Dean whispered sadly, as the man by his side put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to him.

"We're going to get him back, Dean, I promise…"

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Oooh, I'm having fun now!!! Reviews please!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** They're not my, but oh boy if they were…! ;-)

**A/N:** Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don't have season two yet. 

**Chapter Five: A Clue, A Hint, A… Who?**

Dean and his father sat watching the heart monitor attached to Sam in vain, as if it held all the answers and would somehow let them know why Sam was sick and what was going on inside his head. The doctors had run their tests again, and were dismayed to discover that there had been no mistake, there was definitely no sign of illness or infection of any kind, just an unexplainable fever that threatened Sam's life.

John Winchester blamed himself. He had never really been there for his boys, even as they were growing up. He had been so busy trying to protect them from all the big bad scary things in the world, that he had forgotten the most important thing about being a father was being there to be a father. Instead he was constantly on the hunt and had left Dean with Sam to care for him, feed him, make him feel better when he was sick or scared. And now, as an adult, Dean and Sam were still carrying on without him, he still hadn't learned his lesson. Dean had been so used to having to care for Sam by himself that he hadn't called his father until Sam was already in a coma and beyond reach.

Dean sighed and put his head in his hands helplessly.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked his father. John winced, hearing the guilt in his eldest sons voice. Dean had the weight of the world on his shoulders from such a young age, and he wondered if it was finally beginning to show. Dean looked so helpless and lost, and John wondered if that's all it was or if he was really started to break under the strain of protect Sam from the world.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Dean," John told him insistently. He sighed and looked back at Sam. He looked small and weak, and John wasn't used to seeing him like that. Dean, although awake and healthy, looked just as bad as Sam and John didn't like it. He always saw his boys as people he had to protect, even now, but they had never looked weak to him. Even Sam, as a child, looked like he could take on anything. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Um," Dean had to think a moment before answering. "Before Sammy was admitted to hospital."

"That was two days ago," John realised, concerned.

"Dad," Dean caught his fathers attention. He looked away as if uncertain whether to continue. His father was here and that's all that mattered. He didn't want to make him feel worse than he already did. "That was three days ago."

"What?"

"Sam was admitted three days ago," Dean repeated, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

"Come on," John grabbed his son by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet.

"Where are we going?" Dean asked, looking back at his brother.

"To the cafeteria to get you something to eat," John told him. He saw how reluctant Dean was and assumed it was because he didn't like hospital food. "It's better than starving to death, isn't it?"

"It's not that," Dean admitted, standing uneasily by Sam's bed.

"You don't want to leave Sam?" John asked, not at all surprised.

"No," Dean shook his head. "He might need me."

"Dean, if he needs you, he'll need you to be at full strength," John told him. "Are you at full strength right now?"

Dean sighed and shook his head. His father was right and it was annoying. But Dean had to admit it, he was definitely not his best. He had barely slept for three days, he hadn't eaten at all and his muscles were sore from sitting up in the most uncomfortable chair known to man. He looked down at the chair a moment and his tired mind wondered if the person who designed it had been evil or just stupid. He hoped it were the former so he could kick his ass if he ever found him.

John sighed impatiently, knowing he'd have to drag Dean to the cafeteria or he'd never leave the room, so he put his arm around his shoulders supportively, and lead him away from Sam.

As they were leaving, Dean looked back at his brother one more time. He had a terrible feeling he was going to miss something if he left, but he tried to convince himself that it was just exhaustion and concern over his brother that was causing such paranoia.

They left.

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Sam and Jessica had decided to go to the beach for a weekend away before the baby came. Jessica was still only 8 weeks along, but they weren't sure with Sam's work when they would get another chance. Sam followed his wife as she lead him out to the sandy beach. She ran ahead into the surf, excited to be in the warm sun and the salty waves, but Sam stayed on the shore a moment longer. He gazed out at the sea with an uneasy feeling washing over him like the waves washed over his feet. There was something wrong, very wrong, and he just wished he could remember what it was.

Sam looked over his shoulder, as if expecting to see someone standing behind him. But there was no one there, and he shook his head as if trying to clear his mind. The last few days had been amazing, his beautiful wife, their impending family, but still he had felt uneasy. Someone was watching him, he was sure of it. Either that or he had finally inherited the Winchester Family Paranoia.

With that thought, his brother's face tugged at his memory. Dean. He was gone, Sam was certain of it now. They had fought, Jessica told him. He didn't remember, but he knew that if he really had refused to help Dean find their father there would have been a confrontation to say the least. But Sam was certain that nothing could have prevented him from going with his brother. Sam wanted a normal life, but he still loved his family more than anything, and no matter what else, he would never abandon them like that.

Jessica had told him they had fought. She must be right.

Sam looked over his shoulder again, having been convinced he heard his brother's voice. It was like he was very far away, but he was certain he'd heard him.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Jessica asked him, concern in her voice.

"I'm just…" Sam looked down at her, feeling sick suddenly. "Dean… I think he's dead… I should have gone with him…"

"Sam, you weren't to know that something might happen," Jessica told him. "If something has happened, that is."

Sam cocked his head in question.

"You don't think so?"

"Well, I don't know what the circumstances were when you fought, Sam," she explained. "You sent me out of the room remember?"

Sam sighed. He remembered sending her out of the room, but that was where their memories ceased to agree. Jessica said he had never left her, Sam was convinced he had. Who was right? If Sam's memories were right, then Jessica shouldn't be there, standing before him.

What was going on?

"Don't worry about it now, Sam," Jessica told him, taking his hand and leading him into the water. Sam expected it to be cold, but it was warm, like a sauna and he was relieved to feel comforted by it. "We're here now, and we're going to enjoy this time together while we still can…"

"Jess, I cant help but worry about it," Sam sighed as she swam into his arms. "He's my family."

"I'm your family," Jessica reminded him. "Me and our baby, we're your family…"

"I know you are," Sam grinned, still unable to believe that he was going to be a father.

"You'll go back to your brother eventually, I know that," Jessica told him, her voice beginning to fade. "But I just want to keep you with me where it's safe for as long as I can… is that so wrong?"

Sam looked at Jessica, confused by her words. What did she mean by that? How could he return to his brother if Dean was dead? What was going on?

As Sam studied Jessica's face, he saw fear suddenly wash over her pretty features. She was looking behind him, but Sam never had a chance to see what was coming toward them before he was suddenly under the water, struggling for breath, struggling to regain control. There were hands around his throat, he couldn't breath and Sam was suddenly sure that this was what Jessica meant: he was going to die, and be with Dean.

Part of didn't care, he was supposed to be with Dean.

But he couldn't let himself die, or Dean would kill him.

Sam opened his eyes to see what he was fighting and saw two Jessica's standing before him. Jessica on the left was wearing a white bikini and smiling sadly down at him.

"I love you, Sam," she mouthed to him. "I'm sorry…"

The other Jessica, on the right, smiled cruelly down at him.

Sam knew it was over.

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Dean and his father sat at opposite sides of the table with a burger in front of them. Dean tried to eat something to please his father, but he couldn't bring himself to swallow his food. It tasted like ashes in his mouth, and whenever he tried to swallow he wanted to gag.

Dean decided to concentrate on his coffee instead, at the very least a caffeine hit couldn't be a bad thing.

"What was Sam doing before he got sick?" John asked.

"Well, I told you about the woman on the road," Dean reminded him.

"You think she's a woman in white?"

"I did, but if that's connected to this, then it doesn't track."

"Unless it's a hallucination."

Dean shrugged. He didn't believe that, but he had nothing to back it up yet.

"But the temperature started when Sam was asleep later that day," Dean began. "He was having a nightmare, about Jessica's death I think… but I think this time, Sam was burning too."

"I thought his dreams always tracked what actually happened, like he was reliving it," John questioned, feeling a tug of realisation washing over him.

"They did, as far as I know," Dean agreed. "But there was something different this time. He was trapped in there or something, I couldn't wake him up and when I touched him to shake him, he was hot… like he really was burning…"

John opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it, and indicated Dean should continue his story.

"There was something else," Dean remembered. "When I got there, the handle on the door was hot, and the place smelled like fire, as if it really was burning…"

"But there were no flames?" John questioned.

"No," Dean nodded in agreement. "And as soon as Sam woke up, the smell disappeared and the room went back to normal… but Sam didn't. He was still hot, and it was the next day that he was admitted to hospital."

John thought a moment. Something was sounding familiar about this story, and he struggled to remember what it was. Something from his own past, something important.

"Doc, emergency in the I.C.U, Doc, emergency in the I.C.U!" a voice came over the PA system. Dean leapt from the table and ran for the lift. Hitting the button several times before giving up and heading for the stairs, Dead raced back to his brother's room, his father close behind.

From the hall way near the stairway, Dean could hear the alarms and his chest hurt as if his heart were being pressed in a vice. He raced into the room to see Sam laying helplessly in bed, his heart monitor in one long, constant beep that indicated his heart had stopped.

"What's going on?" Dean yelled, seeing Doc standing over Sam with paddles in his hand.

"His temperature is at 103, he's crashing," Doc yelled back. "Clear!"

Zap!

Dean stood back, waiting to see what would happen. He didn't believe that this had anything to do with Sam's temperature, at least not the way the Doc meant. He looked at his father and recognised fear in his eyes. He had never seen his father with that look in his eyes. Not ever,

"Clear!" Doc yelled again.

Zap!

Time seemed to stand still as all the noise seemed to leave the room. Dean could see the Doc yelling something at people as they rushed around doing their jobs, and he could feel his father's hand on his shoulder, but he knew that it wasn't what Sam needed. He needed help, but not of the medical variety. Dean just wished he knew what he was supposed to do.

"Clear!"

Zap!

"Clear!"

Zap!

Dean stood beside Sam's bed, not entirely sure how he got there.

"Sam?" he spoke as if his brother were standing right before him, not fighting for his life. "Sammy, you'd better get your butt back here, little brother, I mean it!"

Doc looked over at John questioningly.

"Sir? You really need to remove your son from the room so we can do our jobs," Doc insisted.

John nodded and took a step toward Dean.

"No!" Dean shouted back, the first time in his life raising his voice to his father. "I'm not leaving him again!" he turned back to Sam. "Sam! Fight it! Fight it and come home!!!"

Beep!

Beep!

Beep!

Doc looked at the monitor beside the bed.

"He's back," he stated in amazement.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was croaky as his eyes opened slowly.

"I'm right here, Sammy," Dean told him, for the third time in a week.

"Jess," Sam tried to speak through his sore throat, tears springing to his eyes in relief to see his brother alive and standing before him. His father's face came into view and Sam realised his family really was with him. Jessica was not.

"What about Jess?" Dean asked.

"She was on the road," Sam explained. "She was trying to kill me…"

John watched the exchange between his sons, listening carefully. His relief over seeing Sam back from wherever he had been was suddenly overshadowed as the memory that had been tugging at his mind finally flooded back to him. He had been right, it was familiar, and now he knew why.

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Okay guys, please please please review! Tell me what you think, what you like or don't like so I know what to fix or change.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** They're not my, but oh boy if they were…! ;-)

**A/N:** Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don't have season two yet. 

**Chapter Six: Revelations Come From The Past**

Dean stood protectively by Sam's bed, much to Doc's dismay, as more blood was drawn and his temperature taken. As the nurse changed his drip and made sure he was comfortable, Doc indicated to John that he should follow him outside.

"I'll be right back, Sam," Dean told his brother, who murmured a tired response about not going too far. Dean smiled in relief and followed his father into the hall to talk to Doc. When Dean got a strange look from the doctor, he raised his eyebrows indignantly. "I virtually raised my brother, and I'm the one whose with him day and night… you can talk to me."

John grimaced inwardly at Dean's comment, knowing that it hadn't been meant to sting him, but it hit a nerve. He had started to realise how much he had missed by searching for the demon that had killed his wife. But Dean had a point, when all of this was over and John knew that the boys were safe, he would be leaving again. Just as he always did.

"Okay, well the good news is that he's awake and we manage to get his heart started. He may be a bit groggy for a while, but that's to be expected," Doc told them. Dean ignored the Doc's insistence that he had saved Sam, when Dean knew that Sam had heard Dean urging him to fight when he needed to, and that had given him the strength to overpower whatever was killing him at the time. Dean couldn't believe that it was Jessica, but he pushed that thought aside and tried to focus on what Doc was saying. Man, I'm tired, Dean thought as he struggled to control his thoughts for longer than a few seconds at a time. He blinked his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to drag himself back to reality.

"Well, we already knew that," John reminded him. "We were there."

"The thing that still has me concerned, however, is the fact that Sam's temperature has since gone up again. It's 103.5," Doc explained further. "If we cant get that under control, we're going to lose him and if he crashes again under these circumstances, there may be nothing we can do to bring him back. I'm also concerned about damage to his heart that may already have been done, but we're not going to know much about that until we can run some more tests."

"He's going to be fine," Dean told the doctor, as if the man with the ten years of experience and all that medical training knew nothing about anything. And Dean knew it was true. If he was right, then the doctor really did know nothing about what was hurting Sam, but at least he could try and treat the symptoms and maybe buy them some time.

Dean turned on his heal and walked back into the room.

He stopped short, realising Sam's eyes were closed and he wasn't moving.

"Sam?" Dean moved closer to his brother.

"Hmmm?" Sam opened his eyes but didn't seem to be able to move.

"You had me worried there, little brother," Dean admitted, sighing a breath of relief. He pulled his chair over and sat down, still silently cursing the bastard that had designed the thing. "How do you feel?"

"Tired mostly," Sam told him, clearing his throat. "My heads all foggy…"

"Sam, what do you remember?" Dean asked, knowing that he had to get some info out of his brother, but wishing he could just let him sleep. "Do you know anything that's been happening?"

Sam shook his head, no.

"I don't even know what day it is," Sam admitted, his eyes darting around the room as if in search of something.

"It's Friday," Dean told him. "You've been here for three days."

Sam's eyes snapped back to his older brother as the realisation hit him. Three days? He seemed to be even more confused by the thought, like something was troubling him that even he didn't understand. He continued in his search of the room.

"What do you need, Sam?" Dean asked.

"Water," Sam's voice came out hoarse and painful. Dean reached behind him and collected the jug and a cup, pouring his brother a drink.

"Can you sit up?" Dean asked. Sam couldn't even turn his head to face Dean to get a drink, so Dean put one arm around him and propped his brother up himself, helping him to carefully sip the drink. "Don't take too much, Sammy, or you'll choke…"

When Sam was laying down again, and Dean was settled in his seat, Sam tried to speak again, knowing he had a lot to tell Dean about what had happened.

"I'm sorry," Sam began, stopping to cough through his sore throat.

"For what? You haven't done anything wrong," Dean told him.

"I should have told you about Jess," Sam explained. "I should have told you it was her in the road…"

"Sam, maybe you should have told me, but you still have nothing to apologise for," Dean repeated his previous statement, his tone refusing to allow Sam any argument.

Sam sighed, knowing he had to accept Dean's decision to ignore what Sam had done and just focus on what would come next.

"I was with Jess," Sam began his story, his voice sounding painful again but this time with grief over losing her all over again. "I'd graduated college, I was a lawyer, we had a beautiful home…"

"Sounds nice," Dean replied when Sam hesitated.

"We were married and Jess was going to have a baby," Sam closed his eyes against the tears, feeling as though he had lost Jessica again, and their baby too. Sam had always wanted to be a father, to do the things for his children that he had never had growing up – at least not from his own father.

When Dean realised that Sam was struggling to finish his story, he leaned forward and put his hand on Sam's shoulder to let him know he didn't have to talk until he was ready. He didn't want to push Sam to breaking point, he was already getting weak just from the effort of speaking, and Dean was concerned about a relapse. If Sam sank back into whatever world he had shared with Jessica, Dean wasn't sure he would ever get him back.

"What's Dad doing here?" Sam asked, trying to give himself some time to regain himself.

"I called him when you didn't wake up."

"He's been here all that time?"

Dean hesitated.

"No," he admitted. "I didn't call him till the second day you were in here."

Sam didn't comment any further.

"There were two," he murmured, as if he were falling asleep again.

"Two what?" Dean asked, hoping to keep Sam talking until he was sure that he wouldn't lose him.

"Jessica's," Sam answered, looking at his brother again. "One was the nice Jess, my Jess… she was beautiful and kind and… she was her, just like she always had been…"

Dean frowned, remembering how much Sam missed her and how lost he had been when she first died.

"What about the other Jessica?" Dean asked. Sam's face turned dark at the memory.

"She's the one that's been doing this," Sam told him. "She's the reason I'm here, the reason I'm going to die…"

Dean was stunned at what Sam had said.

"Don't talk like that," Dean warned him. "You are not going to die."

Sam was finally able to turn his head to face Dean. His eyes were grey, with dark circles around them, his skin ashen and he had lost weight in the last few days.

"Dean, we cant fight this," Sam told him. "There's nothing you can do to fix it this time… she's too strong and she can get to me wherever I am…"

"How have you survived so far, then genius?" Dean snapped. He regretted his tone instantly, but knew there was nothing he could do about it. He had to snap Sam out of this doomsday funk he was in.

"I didn't," Sam admitted. "You did."

"Me?" Dean rubbed his eyes with his hands, more confused that ever now.

"Yeah… you broke through and pulled me out," Sam told him. "She was drowning me, and…"

"Drowning you? Not burning you?"

"Not this time," Sam answered him. "She was drowning me, holding me underwater, and then she was gone and I saw you above me instead, pulling me out…"

Dean felt his head pounding. He wondered if that's when the doctor's were trying to revive him not long ago and Dean had yelled at Sam to fight whatever it was and to come home. It had to have been, it was the only explanation.

"You were dead, Sam," he told his brother. "Your heart stopped… you weren't breathing…"

"You were dead, too," Sam replied. "Jess told me that when you came to get my help finding Dad, I told you no and you died on the hunt…"

"The weeping woman?"

"Yeah."

"That would have to suck," Dean smiled, trying to elicit some kind of spark from Sam.

Sam smiled weakly back at him.

"I thought I was crazy, and I thought I really had…" Sam closed his eyes again, not wanting to talk about it anymore. Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder again, urging him to continuing. "I thought I'd really lost you…"

Dean felt his stomach drop. He forgot, sometimes, how protective Sam was of him since he was so busy protecting Sam.

"You're never going to lose me, Sam," Dean told him.

"You cant be so sure," Sam disagreed. "This is the world we live in, and we have to fight to live Dean… it's dangerous, you don't know what's coming around the corner…" He sighed. "Besides, you're going to lose me…"

"Don't say that," Dean snapped.

"Dean, you gotta get used to the idea…"

"No!" Dean yelled, jumping to his feet and knocking his chair over. "You are not dying, no way! Not here, not now, not ever!"

Sam closed his eyes, exhausted. Dean was never going to listen to him, but he knew the truth now. There was no sense fighting it, there was no reason trying to convince himself otherwise. He was going to die, and now all he wanted to do was to make sure that Dean didn't get his hopes up. He would never survive losing Sam if he thought there was something he could have done to stop it.

"Dean…"

"No, Sammy," Dean snapped again. "You die, I die, you get that?" Dean was bent over Sam's bed now, as if begging him to understand. Sam's eyes flew open at Dean's words and stared at him in disbelief. "What happens to you happens to me, we're a team Sammy! It's always been you and me, always! That's not going to change!"

"Don't say that, Dean," Sam disagreed.

"If you die, so do I Sammy, no doubt about it… because I will die fighting for you, protecting you," Dean insisted, his voice catching painfully in his throat as he felt tears spring to his eyes for the fourth time that week. "I don't know any other way."

"I do," John announced from the doorway where he had observed the entire conversation without the brothers realising it. "Nobody's going to die…" He made he way over to Sam's bed, sitting on the edge and pulling his youngest son gently into his arms. "You are not going to die, Dean and I wont allow it…"

Sam lay weakly in his fathers embrace. He wanted to raise his arms to hug his father back, but he had no strength left and was reluctant, yet grateful, when John laid him back against his pillows again. Dean righted his chair again, placing it loudly on the floor as anger over Sam's acceptance of his 'death' boiled in his blood.

"Dean," John warned. Dean sat down and put his hand back to Sam's shoulder, still feeling that Sam needed his strength. John sighed and began to pace in front of them. "There's something I need to tell you boys, something I didn't even remember until now."

"Can you tell us standing on one spot?" Sam requested. "You're making me dizzy."

"Sorry," John stopped and stood still exactly where he was. "You boys were too young to remember, but not long after you mom died, when I first started hunting, you stayed with Pastor Jim for over a week… it was the longest we'd ever been apart…"

"Why?" Dean asked, surprised that he didn't remember.

"Because…" John hesitated. "I was here… hunting…"

"Here?" Sam asked, curious. "Here as in here?"

"In Bellsburrow?" Dean added.

"Yes, here, in this town…" John sighed. "When I first came here, I was still grieving and in a lot of pain over losing your mother… I don't think that has ever really changed, but the pains been replaced by a thirst for revenge and… exhaustion, I guess. I just want this to be over."

Sam nodded.

"I know how that feels," he announced.

Dean looked at Sam, knowing that Sam had never hunted out of passion, merely out of a desire to avenge Jessica's death.

"I drove in on Peakhill Road, I'm assuming the same way you did, and I saw a woman in the road… your mother," John explained. "I started getting sick and having nightmares about her death and… well, I realised that if I stayed I would die, so after staying there a week and trying to figure it out, I came home… I had to survive because I had you boys waiting for me, and I couldn't leave you alone…"

"You ran?" Dean asked, amazed. He and Sam had never left a hunt unfinished. They had even completed one of John's old hunts that he hadn't been able to because he was busy protecting them.

"I had to run," John admitted, sounding ashamed. "I had no choice… this place was killing me. Aside from the… spirit trying to kill me, the stress of it all – the recurrent nightmares and having only just lost you mother, well… I started drinking. Not heavily, but more than I should have… that's why I always warned you, Dean, about drinking."

Dean shot Sam a look, each of the brothers knowing exactly what was behind it.

"Anyway, I didn't know how to kill it, I have never know how to kill it, and I was alone on the hunt, I didn't have anyone to back me up…" John sighed. "This thing was some weird kind of spirit… it had strange powers that I couldn't even begin to understand… whatever, or whoever, it was had the power to read minds and sense guilt or pain or whatever it is that it's after, become the object of that pain… in my case, your mother, in Sam's case it was Jessica… and as it fed on that pain, it fed on life… slowly draining it's victim of their strength, slowly killing them…"

Dean felt Sam stiffen under his hand and knew that the story was ringing a little too true for him. It was amazing that the same thing that had been after their father over 20 years ago, was now after Sam. Could it be possible that it still had nothing to do with The Demon?

"I ran before my case got too bad, too dangerous," John continued, not noticing the changes in Sam and Dean. "All I can figure is that it's grown in strength since then…"

Sam shook his head, no.

"It's had nothing to feed off of since then," Sam spoke tiredly, using all his energy to get the words out.

"It must have had some sort of sustenance," John disagreed.

"No, Sam's right Dad," Dean told him, taking over talking for Sam since this was part of the story he knew about himself. "There's never been an accident in this town, there's never been a violent or unusual death. The spirit has had no opportunity to feed since you left, otherwise there would have been signs of it for us to follow, but there weren't… and obviously no one knew what had happened to you while you were here, because nobody mentioned anything about you having an experience on Peakhill Road either."

"Well, no," John answered. "I never spoke to the townspeople, I didn't get that far."

"It's growing in strength because of Sam," Dean explained, turning to look at his brother.

John considered for a moment. Maybe Dean was right. As much as he hated to admit it, his boys had well and truly outgrown him in the hunt. They were the professionals now, not him. He was an old-timer. Even 20 years ago when he was younger and stronger and fitter, he hadn't been half as good as either Sam or Dean.

"Sam's stronger than I ever was," John agreed. "Both of you are…"

"All Sam had after Jessica died was me, he didn't have children to live for, he just had me…" Dean added. "His pain goes deeper, we both know that. You and I are better at blocking pain than Sam, he feels everything… he always has."

"Just like your mother," John smiled. "You know she was always very open with her emotions… I found it very uncomfortable."

"I don't exactly like it either," Sam admitted. "But there's something else, Dean… some other reason I'm such a meal for this thing…"

Dean thought for a moment, uncertain as to whether he should bring it up.

"What is it?" John asked.

"Um," Dean hesitated again. "Well, you know Sam's been developing these, um… powers… visions… and once he moved a cabinet thing… with his mind…"

John had more to say on the subject, Dean knew, but he saw his father bite his tongue. Now wasn't the time to bring it up, now wasn't the time to talk about any of it. He had to do something before they lost Sam, because he was right. If he stayed here, he was going to die.

"There's only one way I know of to save Sam," John announced. "We have to leave, we have to get him out of here and fast…"

"I'm all for it," Dean agreed.

"No," Sam refused, the only word he had said that had sounded even remotely powerful since he had woken up. "I'm not going to run, I have never run out on a hunt and I don't plan to start now…"

"Sam," John's voice was warning.

"No, Dad!" Sam snapped.

"Come on Sammy," Dean pleaded with him. "It's the only shot we have at saving you…"

"Then find another way," Sam announced indignantly. "I'm not leaving."

"You know, you don't exactly look like you're going to be able to argue," Dean pointed out. "What if I just throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here, and then Dad and I can come back and finish the hunt without you."

"No, Dean," Sam yelled, trying to pull himself up to sit. He could see that he wasn't going to get far by arguing with them, so he decided he would just have to go and take care of it himself. "I'm not running away!"

Dean watched as Sam tried to climb out of bed, but the only way he could manage it was in an almost roll, and the minute he put his feet on the floor his legs gave out from under him and he collapsed in Dean's arms.

"Sam, don't do this, alright?" Dean told him determinedly. "Fine, we wont run… you wont run, but you still have to stay here to get strong okay?"

Sam had used up the last of his energy and as Dean and John put him back into the bed, he felt himself slipping away from them, their voices getting quiet and far away once more.

Am I going to wake up this time, Sam wondered. But he was too exhausted to consider the alternative.

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"So what now?" Dean asked his father as they sat in two chairs on the opposite side of Sam's room. Neither wanted to leave him alone, but knew that he needed his rest so they lowered their voices too. "I mean, aside from the fact it's some strangely powerful spirit, we don't have much to go on."

"You're right," John agreed. "But I know exactly where to start."

"Where?" Dean asked.

"From the beginning… you need to tell me every detail of what you know has happened since you and Sam got here," John announced. "You may know more than you think you know, and this time we're going to get this thing and we're going to kill it… before it kills Sam."

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So there's chapter six, I hope you like it! Please review and let me know if you like it? Still a few more chapters to go yet. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** They're not my, but oh boy if they were…! ;-)

**A/N:** Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don't have season two yet. 

**Chapter Seven: A Mend To Break A Heart**

The next morning Sam was sitting up in bed and was allowed to move around his room more. He was relieved when the doctor came in and told him his temperature had finally dropped to 100.5, which was lowest it had been since his admission into hospital. With this new information, Sam was told that he could go to the bathroom on his own, and even stay out of bed a little if he was careful.

"Can I go home?" Sam asked, hopefully.

Doc hesitated, wishing that Sam's family were awake and able to help him in this conversation.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Sam," Doc told him, shaking his head. "You're not out of the woods yet, and I wasn't too happy with those tests we ran on you yesterday. Your heart showed signs of weakness, you could suffer a heart attack or have a seizure or any number of complications."

"I know that I can check myself out against medical advice, right?" Sam asked.

"Well, yes you can, but I really don't think it's a good idea," Doc looked over to the seats where John and Dean were asleep, wishing they would wake up and join in the conversation.

"I didn't ask what you thought," Sam snapped. He took a deep breath, realising that he wasn't a hundred percent, but he had to get out of that hospital. If Evil Jessica didn't kill him, the boredom would. He fought against the weakness his body felt, hoping to hold it together until he got rid of the doctor. "I want the paperwork written up, I'm going home."

Doc left to do as he was told, shaking his head in disbelief. This family was more stubborn than any other ONE person he had met!

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An hour later, Sam had showered and was fully dressed and standing before his brother. He knew he must be exhausted, having stayed up by his side for days. Sam was exhausted, but he wanted to get out of this town and away from the memories it was haunting him with, and besides that he couldn't stand the thought of living one more day with an Evil Jessica in the world. He wanted her gone. He wanted his beautiful Jessica to be able to rest knowing that Sam was safe and that she didn't have to protect him anymore. Grief gripped his heart, as Sam knew that ridding the world of one would effectively rid the world of the other, but he had to do it. For Jessica. For Dean. He couldn't stand the thought of Dean suffering another minute wondering if Sam was going to survive the day, and he would do whatever it took to make sure he didn't have to.

"Dean," Sam shook him gently. "Dean, wake up."

"That's supposed to be my line," Dean teased, opening his eyes and stretching tiredly. When he saw Sam standing before him – standing! And dressed! Dean flew out of his seat. "Are you okay? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam assured him. "They're letting me out."

Dean's eyes showed a hint of disbelief in them.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," Sam answered, smiling. He tried to make himself look normal and healthy, but knew he wasn't doing a great job. It didn't have to be a great job, it just had to be enough to get him out of that room. "I just have to pick up some paperwork, and then we can go."

"Okay, well…" Dean hesitated, looking down at his father.

"Why don't you wake Dad, and I'll go and get the stuff I have to get, and then we can go," Sam suggested. He turned to walk out of the room, hoping he had gotten away with it and would make it at least to the door.

"Wait a minute Sam," Dean snapped. Sam stopped in his tracks, beginning to feel breathless but trying to hide it from his brother.

John was on his feet now too, looking surprisingly awake.

"What?" Sam asked, hoping he didn't look too guilty.

"I'll go and get the car and bring it round," Dean decided. "And Dad will go with you to the nurses station to make sure you don't collapse or something while nobody's around, okay?"

Sam hesitated, realising that he would have to be careful of what was said around his father. If anything got back to Dean about Sam forcing his way out of the hospital, especially if he was in danger of a heart attack, then Sam was going to be in big trouble. He just hoped he could work it out, because there was no way he was sending his brother or his father out after a demon or a spirit or whatever it was, without him there to watch their backs. This thing was seriously dangerous, and they might need him.

"Unless there's some reason you don't want me talking to your doctor, Sam?" John suggested. "In which case you can just climb straight back into that bed and be done with it because you're not leaving here until I know you're okay."

Sam sighed. He had expected Dean to be more of the problem with his escape plan than his father, but he would just have to hope that he would be able to talk his Dad around if need be.

"No problem," Sam agreed, forcing a smile. He lead the way out of the room and then stopped, confused. He had no idea where the nurses station was, and John laughed as he headed up the hallway.

"It's that way, Sammy," Dean teased, pointing after their father.

"Right," Sam smiled. "Of course it is…"

Ten minutes later, Sam had the discharge papers in front of him. The nurse refused to hand him the pen to sign them until Doc joined them, stating she was under orders that he wanted to specifically talk to Sam and his family before he would be able to leave.

Sam moaned, annoyed with the situation. He was an adult and he didn't care what the doctor said, he couldn't get his father on side to ground him. It didn't work that way. And if John thought that it would, he had another think coming because he wouldn't be able to stop him from leaving either.

"Sam," Doc greeted him. "How are you feeling?"

"Great, thanks," Sam told him.

"Well, the papers are there, I just wanted to go over a few things with you to make sure you understand what you're doing," Doc explained. "There has been some damage to your heart, Sam, but we don't know how serious it is yet."

"You're releasing him with heart troubles?" John questioned.

"Have you just met your son?" Doc asked, sarcasm laced heavily through his voice. John couldn't suppress a smile as he realised that Sam had talked his way out of the hospital the same way that he would have. But that was different, he knew. Sam needed to be here, it was important and he wasn't going to allow him to leave.

"So what are the risks?" he questioned, deciding to at least find out more about his sons condition before taking him back to his room, forcibly if necessary.

"He could collapse, have a heart attack, or have a seizure… there are something's you can look out for, such as breathlessness, dizziness, confusion…" Doc hesitated. "I don't mind telling you, sir, that I feel extremely uncomfortable about letting him leave at all… his temperature is still high and I really think he should just rest a few more days…"

"What happens if he shows some of these symptoms?" John asked.

"If he shows any of these symptoms at all, even if you think it's nothing, bring him straight back in," Doc told him. "However, there is a chance that he may not display any symptoms at all, you must understand that… and if that's the case, by the time something happens then it's most likely going to be too late."

"Sam," John turned to his youngest son, his voice telling Sam everything he needed to know.

"Dad, no," Sam pulled his father aside, out of hearing range of the doctor. "Look, I know that I'm not back to normal, but my temperature is down to 100.5… and you guys might need my help, even if I'm just a distraction."

"A distraction?" John asked incredulously. "Sam, you could die! You nearly died already, and you're asking me to use you as bait? I cant do it!"

"If you don't, then there's a good chance that this thing is going to kill me anyway," Sam hissed angrily. "Just listen to me for once, okay? I know what I'm doing! If this thing is fixated on me, and it clearly is, then it'll come after me and give you a chance to kill it once and for all… if I'm not there, it'll go after you to ensure it's survival, and it'll win Dad… it's strong, you have no idea how strong…"

John shook his head.

"I cant do it, Sammy."

"Dad, you have to because once it takes you and Dean out, then whose going to be left to protect me huh?" Sam pointed out. "And after what I've been through the last few days, believe me I have an idea about what it's got in store for me and I can tell you something else. It's not going to be pleasant, and it's not going to be quick… it'll torture me and torment me with Jessica's death and all the things I lost when I lost her… my family, my career, my life… it'll make me relive it all again and again until there's nothing left! I cant go through that, not again!"

John looked like he had been slapped. He had forgotten how much Sam had really lost, he had forgotten what he was going through. Now, as he watched him sway slightly from the exertion it had taken to get his father to listen, John knew that he had no choice but to go along with it. John couldn't bare the thought of Sam being left alone to be tortured to death if something did happen to him and Dean, but he couldn't help but admit that Sam was right. They would need him to buy them some time.

"Okay, Sam, we're on…" John assured him. Sam's eyes had filled with tears since having to tell his dad so clearly what he was afraid of and how much he had lost, and John pulled him into a hug now to try and calm him. "It's alright, Sam. We're going to take care of this, I promise…"

"Thanks Dad."

"I'm worried about you, though… if you feel sick or anything, you have to say something… and after this you're going to have to take it easy…"

"I've been thinking about that," Sam admitted. "Once you kill this thing, my temperature should return to normal and everything should start to sort itself out too…"

"It's a good theory, Sammy, but can I make a suggestion?" John asked. Sam nodded. "Don't tell your brother what the doctor just told me."

"I had no intention to," Sam admitted.

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Dean waited in the car for his brother and his dad. In his hand he held the Beatles Cassette tape, remembering Sam laughing at him when he had found it in his box. It had been the last time he had seen his brother smiling and laughing, that light in his eyes alive and well. Now he wondered if he would ever see that again, just as he wondered if Sam would ever truly recover. He had let himself believe that Sam had begun dealing with Jessica's death, and he realised how wrong he had been. The spirit wouldn't be going after him if Sam's pain hadn't been just as fresh now as it was the day she had died. Dean had been a fool to believe his brother was recovering from that loss.

Dean opened the cassette tape absent-mindedly, and a piece of paper fell out, fluttering to the floor at his feet. Dean leaned down and picked it up, seeing that it was a receipt.

Dated three months ago.

Unbelievable! The little sneak! Dean looked up and saw Sam and John heading toward the car. Out in the bright sunlight, Sam looked even paler than he had inside, and the sight of him made Dean's stomach churn with anxiety. Looking back down at the receipt in his hand, though, made him laugh. How was it possible that he didn't realise it had been a set up the whole time? Dean shook his head and tucked the receipt away as Sam climbed into his regular seat.

"Very nice, Sammy," Dean laughed, handing his brother the cassette tape.

Sam grinned, his eyes glinting at his brother the same way they had days ago when the cassette tape had first come into play.

Dean shook his head once more and, when Sam and John both had their seatbelts fastened, drove the car in the direction of the motel room.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was settled on his bed with his eyes closed. He insisted that he was okay, that he was just resting a moment while they put the pieces of the puzzle together and figured out their next move.

"Dean was telling me that there were no violent or unusual deaths in the area?" John asked Sam.

"Yeah, that's right," Sam agreed.

"Actually," Dean announced, suddenly remembering the conversation he had had at the ice cream parlour. "I forgot about it until now, because I only found out about it just before Sam got sick… remember that girl at the ice cream place?"

Sam nodded, sitting up a little and turning his attention toward Dean.

"She fell for you the minute you walked in," Sam teased.

"Whatever man," Dean shot back. "Maybe that's coz I was the first real man she had ever seen…"

"That's only coz you walked in ahead of me," Sam carried on the banter. He hoped that it would help convince Dean that he was okay, but it was also hard to resist an opportunity to tease his big brother.

Dean chose to ignore the conversation, deciding that he hadn't lost, he had merely conceded to ensure that his little brother didn't overexert his tired brain too much.

"Anyway, she was telling me about this guy who had been run over by his tractor," Dean explained, returning to the business of the day. "I know it doesn't sound like much, but it's all we have to go on."

"Well, it's a start at least," John said. "Did she tell you anything else about him? Have there been any sightings?"

"No, she just said he was dead," Dean sighed, remembering how confused the girl had become at that line of questioning. "The only other thing she said was that he was dark skinned and lived out the way some place…"

"Right, well now we have a more of an idea what we're looking for I guess, but why would this guy be able to do all these things like trapping Sam in a nightmare with 104 degree temperature?" John asked, still confused.

"The only way a spirit has those sorts of powers is if he already had them," Sam spoke up. "The woman in white that we encountered on that first hunt was stuck doing the same thing she had done in life… that creepy ass psychiatrist was still 'treating' patients even after his death in that asylum… maybe this guy already had these abilities before."

"How is that possible?" Dean asked.

"Gee, I don't know, Dean, how is it possible for me to see the future and move objects with my mind?" Sam asked, pointedly. "It doesn't make sense, but it's still true…"

"But we're talking about some pretty strange powers, here, Sam," John chimed in.

"He would need to be telepathic or empathic at least to sense whatever was troubling his victims, and he would have to have some kind of projection power," Sam sighed, realising he was going to have to work at explaining this one a little harder. Almost dying obviously didn't help his credibility, he realised. He eased himself off the bed, feeling suddenly very weak and wondered if he could even managed the six steps to the table where the laptop sat waiting for him. He tried to move without letting Dean or his father know what was wrong, but each step he took he began to feel weaker, like all the air had been knocked out of him suddenly and his vision grew dark.

"Sam?" Dean moved to his brothers side and took his arm.

"I'm okay," Sam lied, finding the back of the chair and holding onto it for support while his vision cleared. He still felt breathless and shaky, but he could see again and figured everything else could sort itself out while he worked.

"Sam, maybe you should rest…" John suggested, trying to put a knowing tone into his words to communicate with Sam without alerting Dean to what he was really worried about.

"No, I'm fine," Sam insisted, opening the laptop and taking a deep breath. Hmmm, note to self, he thought, don't take a deep breath unless you want to pass out. He gripped the side of the table until his knuckles turned white and waited for his vision to clear again.

"I don't like this," Dean announced, hovering near Sam. "You don't look good, Sam, maybe we should take you back to the hospital."

"No," Sam jumped in, trying to sound better than he felt. "I'm fine, I promise… it's just been a long couple of days, that's all…"

Dean opened his mouth to argue but caught his fathers concerned gaze.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking between the pair. "Did the doctor say something I need to know about?"

"No, Dean, of course not," Sam lied again, hating himself for it. "We would have told you… you don't go into a hunt with only half the information, right Dad?"

John hesitated, realising that this was make or break. Either way, one of his sons was eventually going to be mad at him, and right now he had to follow his original judgement through to the end,

"Right," he added, guilt flooding his stomach until he felt sick.

Dean slumped onto the bed in defeat, realising that he was probably just more protective that normal of Sam. He wouldn't risk lying to him when it could mean his life, Dean thought. And his father certainly wouldn't.

Sam's fingers, meanwhile, flew across the keyboard as he pulled up a heap of information. His recent illness obviously hadn't effected his ability to type or research this time, especially now that he had a better idea of what he was looking for. Within minutes, he had everything he needed and turned in his seat with a smile.

"So, this guys name is Walter Barborossa," he began. "And he wasn't just run over accidentally by a tractor, there was evidence of murder but the police had no idea who had done it…"

"So much for the peaceful town of Bellsburrow," Dean replied sarcastically.

"Anyway, their theory was that he had upset someone in his work… he was a psychic who apparently helped people communicate with their dead loved ones, only he wasn't communicating, he was reading their minds and then projecting the image in front of him," Sam explained. "His wife died several years later, but she gave an expose to one of those whacko magazines."

"Which one?" Dean asked.

"Kooky Kooks," Sam told him, wondering what idiot had come up with the name of the magazine. "So, someone catches him at it, and finishes him off, but with the violent death comes the haunting, and since he was already a powerful psychic…"

"He can do some serious damage," John finished for him.

"Right, but only with people's pain or grief, because that's what he played on with the people he scammed in life, so now he's repeating it, but his payment is strength and power and life," Sam sighed, sitting back in his seat. "He's a bit starved for attention out here because everyone is so protected and there's no accidents or anything to draw grief from, which leaves him dormant until…"

"Until a bleeding heart drives into town still grieving over his dead girlfriend," Dean finished bluntly.

"Right," Sam agreed, not denying a word of it.

"The fact that you're turning out to be a pretty powerful psychic yourself probably turned out to be a real bonus for him," Dean added, getting to his feet and beginning to pace. "So, what now?"

"Now we get down to business…" John announced. "This might turn out to be a much simpler problem than we initially thought."

"How's that?" Dean asked.

"Well, it may seem complicated, but really it's not… we just have to find his body, and salt it and burn it… just like the old days, huh boys?"

Sam turned back to his research, tapped a few more keys and read carefully.

"His body was buried in the family cemetery at the back of his land," Sam announced. "This is a good thing… it's private and nobody's lived there since his wife died."

"Damn," Dean muttered. "I always work better with an audience…"

"Well, if you manage to kill this sucker, I promise to give you a standing ovation," Sam chuckled, getting to his feet and stumbling slightly as his head spun.

"If I manage to kill this sucker, all I want you to promise is that you'll still be standing."

Dean made his way out to the car to check their supplies, leave Sam alone with his father. Sam knew that there was a conversation coming, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it if John decided to ground him after all.

John looked at him uneasily.

"You alright Sam?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam lied again. He hated lying.

"You've already had two out of three of the major symptoms that doctor told us to look out for and it's not even been an hour since you left the hospital," John pointed out. "I don't like it Sam."

"I know, but it doesn't change anything," Sam sighed. "The facts still remain the same… my best chances are out there with you guys, and you know it."

"Do I?" John asked. When Sam didn't respond, he sighed and gave in again. "Okay, but if you start feeling any sort of chest pain, you say something straight away…"

"Yes sir," Sam said.

"I mean it Sam."

Sam nodded.

"I'll go and help your brother," John decided, walking out of the room. "We leave in five minutes!"

Once he was alone, Sam sank back onto his chair, putting his hand to his chest, trying to control his breathing and hoping to slow the beating of his heart. He was still feeling dizzy and weak, his breath kept catching painfully in his throat, and his chest was already hurting with every beat of his heart. But he knew he just had to hold out a little longer, because once he got out to the grave of Walter Barborossa, it wouldn't matter what state he was in because he only had to play chicken while the others dug up the body and did the rest.

Sam took a deep breath, forcing himself to his feet and left the room, destiny be damned. If he died now, it would be protecting his family while they destroyed an evil spirit. He couldn't have a problem with that, and at least Dean would know he'd done everything he could.

What happened next would tell the story of Sam's life from this point onward – if he was even supposed to have one.

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So, we're getting there folks! The next chapters going to have more drama, a bit of action, and a few more surprises… wait and see what's coming!

Don't forget to review!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** They're not my, but oh boy if they were…! ;-)

**A/N:** Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don't have season two yet. 

**Chapter Eight: Fight Or Fright**

Dean drove in silence to the address Sam had given him, but his mind wasn't on the hunt as much as it was on Sam. He had been quiet since getting back in the car and didn't seem to be feeling well. Dean was fairly certain that he had grown paler again, and he didn't like the beads of sweat forming at Sam's temples. There was something wrong, he was sure of it.

Dean decided he had to ask him.

"Sam?" he caught his brothers attention. "You okay?"

Sam merely nodded.

Dean looked in the rear view mirror at his father, sharing his concern. John just shook his head and forced his gaze out the window. He couldn't bring himself to face the possibilities that they could be walking into, and what that could be for Sam. He knew that it was too late to argue anymore, and he was starting to wonder if he had done the right thing. The only thing he knew for sure is that if he had made the wrong decision, he was going to regret it, and he would lose Dean as well because he would never be able to forgive him.

They pulled up in a heavily wooded area where they could clearly see the private cemetery in front of them. It was small and easily set out for access and privacy, so that when a member of their family died and was transported to their plot, it wasn't far to carry the coffin and there was nothing hindering their path. Sam saw that the terrain seemed clear and was relieved to know he wouldn't have to walk far or work hard to get to where they needed to go, because with how he was feeling he was fairly certain for one that he wouldn't be up to a long hike, and for two he wasn't going to make it out of this hunt alive. He had been lucky too many times, he knew, and he just hope to be lucky enough to survive long enough to get his dad and Dean through to the end. That was his life's dream at this point, for them to be safe.

The three of them standing at the trunk of the car, Dean handed a shovel to his father and took one for himself.

"Eyes out now, boys," John was instructing them as per usual. "This guy could turn up at any time, so be on the look out… he may already know we're here, since he's after Sam…"

"Right, so Sam, you'll at least need this," Dean handed him a shotgun loaded with rock salt. "You seem to be the only one who can see this thing, so you're going to be the only one who can try and fend him off for any of us."

"Right," Sam agreed, taking the gun from his brother. Sam pulled his father aside once more while Dean pulled out the salt, lighter fluid and lighter they would need to finish the job. "Dad, I need to ask you a favour."

"What is it, Sam?" John asked, concerned. "Are you feeling okay?"

Sam hesitated.

"You're not, are you?" John realised. "I should have known, what's wrong?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," Sam insisted. "I just want you to promise me something…" He glanced sadly over at his brother knowing that he probably would never get to tell him what he wanted to say himself, but wishing he could. "Just make sure that, whatever happens, Dean know's this wasn't his fault… I made my own decisions, and I did it all for him…"

"Sam, you are going to get through this," John told him, not wanting to believe there was any alternative.

"I don't have much longer, Dad," Sam told him, finally being honest. "I'm dying, I can feel it… my chest hurts, my hearts growing weaker… I don't have long… but I'm not going in there until I know that you'll tell Dean what I said."

John hesitated, his instinct telling him to get his son to safety, but his logic telling him that Sam was right when he said that the doctors couldn't help him. His only chance really was to get the spirit before it drained the last of Sam's life from him.

"I promise," he said, his throat tight and his eyes stinging with tears. He could see that Sam needed a minute to steady himself, and as much as he wanted to hug his son to him until the end, he knew he didn't have that luxury. He turned and went back to the car and set about getting out what he would need for the hunt.

Dean looked up when his father approached and noticed the tears in his eyes.

"Is everything okay?" Dean asked, looking back at Sam.

John shook his head, no.

"Is it Sam?"

John nodded.

"What do we do?" Dean sounded panicked.

"We have to finish this, and fast…" John stated, picking up his hand gun in case they needed it and turning off the safety.

"He really is dying, isn't he?" Dean looked like he didn't want to know the answer, but the look in his fathers eyes told him everything he needed to know in an instant. He leaned his hands against the Impala as if to pass his anger out of his body and into the cool metal. "Why did they let him out?"

"He made them…" John told him.

"And you knew?" Dean asked, uncertain.

"Yes, Dean… I knew," John admitted.

The look in Dean's eyes flashed through pain, grief, anger and finally hate. He couldn't believe his father was so willing to sacrifice Sam like that. He was willing to deliver him to a spirit that had been tormenting him for a week now, while Sam was weak and vulnerable. He clearly hadn't been thinking straight, and Dean had trusted him. He would never be that stupid ever again.

"I cant believe you," Dean told him angrily. "After this hunt is over, and I've saved my brother's life, you're hitting the road."

Dean slammed the trunk shut and hurried over to his brother.

"Are you ready?" he asked him.

Sam nodded. There was a look on his face that Dean didn't like. It wasn't fear, it wasn't determination, it was something else… he was resolved to what he believed was his fate. He had given up and was merely living to finish the hunt.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, hoping it would be an answer he liked.

Sam forced a smile and tried to assure his brother he was fine, but the minute he caught his eye he knew it was useless. Dean knew the truth.

"You should have told me, Sammy…" Dean told him sadly. "You should have told me…"

"I'm sorry," Sam apologised sincerely.

"Save it," Dean snapped. "You can make your apologies after this is over, because I'm not losing you, Sam… no matter what you might think."

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The three Winchester's were walking toward the cemetery, seemingly ready for action. There had never been a tenser hunt in their lives, and they knew than no matter what the outcome, things were never going to be the same.

John was never going to forgive himself for lying to Dean and putting them in this situation.

Dean was never going to forgive John for being willing to sacrifice Sam.

Sam might never survive.

Knowing that everything was about to change, they were ready for action. John and Dean kept Sam between them, knowing that their whole plan relied on them keeping Sam safe for as long as possible. They had guns at the ready, and their eyes searching the gravestones while looking out for any strange phenomenon.

Finally standing before the headstone of Walter Balborossa, John, Dean and Sam waited as if this was the first time they had ever dug up a body. They wanted to get this over with but they knew from experience that the minute they started the process of digging, the spirit would most likely attack.

"This feels different from the other times," Sam spoke up, breaking the silence between them. "It seems more final somehow."

"Will you stop talking like that, Sam," Dean snapped, growing angry. "I don't need to hear it! I've told you, you are walking out of here alive and well, just like the rest of us!"

Sam decided not to argue, he knew that Dean needed to believe he would be able to save him, and there was nothing he could do to convince him otherwise. But instead of arguing, Sam fell to one knee, gripping his chest.

"Sam!" Dean kneeled before him.

"You have to… get it… done…" Sam breathed hard, dragging himself out of the way.

John grabbed his shovel and without question began digging as fast as he could.

"Dean!" John yelled at him, trying to get his attention back to the job at hand. Dean looked up from his brother and reluctantly laid him down on the grass before turning his attention to the grave before him. He had never felt such urgency in a hunt before, and he knew that he would dig this body up in record time.

Sam saw Jessica standing before him once more, smiling cruelly.

"It's all your fault, Sam," she screamed at him. "You let me die! You left me to die!"

"No!" Sam cried out, trying to get to his feet.

"Sam!" Dean called out, not stopping from his work as much as he wanted to.

"Keep digging," Sam wheezed.

"You left me to go with a family who abandoned you!" Jessica screeched, reaching down to the ground and wrapping one hand around Sam's throat, lifted him from his feet. "They don't love you! They were using you! They were controlling you! And you let them, and I died!!!"

Dean looked over his shoulder, realising Sam was in more trouble that he had been aware of and dropped his shovel in favour of the shotgun Sam had lost when he collapsed. He aimed it at Jessica and fired, forcing her to retreat and drop Sam painfully to the ground.

"You can… see her?" Sam wheezed.

Dean nodded.

"That's not good," John announced as he dug. "If you can see her, that means that Sam doesn't have much longer and… you're next…"

The next time John put his shovel into the grave, it hit the coffin with a loud thud.

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Sam lay on the ground gasping for breath while his heart beat painfully in chest. His vision had grown fuzzy and he could feel himself drifting away, like he was floating above the ground. He knew he wasn't, because he could feel a large stone digging into his back that he had landed on, but his head was spinning from lack of air and lack blood pumping around his body. He could hear Dean grunting with the effort of prying open a stubborn coffin that didn't want to budge after such a long time under the ground.

"It's too late," Sam announced weakly, his breathing barely a gasp now as he vision began to swim before him.

"No!" Dean shouted at him. "No, it's not! Don't you give up on me, Sammy!"

Sam gasped for breath again, trying to hold on for his brother, knowing he needed him to servive.

"Dean…" Sam whispered.

"Sam! Don't you dare leave me!" Dean yelled again, growing more and more desperate. "Get the stuff ready Dad, we're gonna do this fast…"

John held the salt in one hand and the lighter fluid in the other hand, ready to pour them quickly over the body one after the other, when Dean suddenly got the lid open with a final growl of determination.

"Hang in there, Sammy!" Dean yelled. "We're almost there!"

"Cant… sorry…" Sam murmured. All he could see anymore was a tiny speck of light left in the centre of his vision as he felt his life leaving his body. A beautiful woman, blonde, blue eyes and a gorgeous smile appeared in front of what little he could see and held her hand out to him. "Jess…"

Dean and John exchanged looks as they realised that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

"You check on him," John ordered, starting to pour the salt.

Dean rushed over to his brother and checked his pulse.

Nothing.

He checked his breathing.

Nothing.

Dean shook him, desperately trying to get some reaction out of him.

"SAM!"

Nothing.

Dean fell to a sitting position, still holding his brother in his arms. He was defeated, no longer able to care what happened to him since he had failed at the one thing he had ever cared about in his life. Take care of Sam, that's all he wanted to do. Make sure his family was safe and Sam was not only family, but his best friend.

And now he was gone.

Dean had failed.

Tears spilled from his eyes and he suddenly heard someone shouting uncontrollably and unintelligible words, sounding like a wounded animal.

"Dean!" John shouted. "I need the lighter!"

Dean looked up, his vision shaking as his grief began to overtake him completely. Time had stood still and he didn't know anymore what was happening to him. He felt like his body was made of liquid, and he could barely get it to move. He looked down at Sam's face, wishing he would open his eyes and claim April Fool's or something. Anything to say that he was still alive.

"Dean!" John yelled again.

Dean gently laid Sam back down on the ground and stood on shaking legs, wondering if he would be able to save the rest of his family – or himself – before it was too late.

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Hmmm, now what? Huh? Gonna have to read to find out!!! Lol Having fun now?

Review please!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** They're not my, but oh boy if they were…! ;-)

**A/N:** Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don't have season two yet. 

**Chapter Nine: The Way It Was Meant To Be…**

Dean held the lighter in his hands as he turned to pass it to his father, when he saw Sam standing before him. His first thought was relief, but he could still see his brother's body laying at his feet and suddenly he knew what was happening. Evil Jessica was gone now that Sam had died, and it was Dean's turn to be served up on the menu for the angry spirit.

"Dean, I need that lighter!" John yelled at him, but saw his son frozen on the spot, staring at something John couldn't see. "Dean!"

"Sam," Dean said, pointing straight ahead of him. Before he could move, Angry Sam leapt at him and hit him hard, sending him across the ground and into a small, broken down grave stone. Dean felt the pain in his shoulder and rolled instantly away from the gravestone, but didn't move any further. He needed to find that lighter.

"Dean!" John yelled, climbing out of the grave to go to his sons aid.

"You let me die!" Sam screamed at him.

"I didn't," Dean disagreed. "I didn't let you die!"

"You did! You did! You knew I was sick, and you didn't care," Sam yelled, picking him up and tossing him into the open grave. "You didn't care! You just didn't want to been saddled with poor, pathetic Sammy anymore!"

"I never thought you were pathetic," Dean argued, climbing out again quickly and crawling away to somewhere safer than a grave that, with any luck, would be on fire any second now.

"Don't argue with it, Dean," John warned him. "That's how he gains power over you, dragging you in… Sam resisted it longer than I did, and you have to resist it too."

"Why?" Dean asked, turning to his father. "So I can die from a heart attack too?"

Dean saw the hand gun in his fathers waste band and lunged for it, jumping to his feet.

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Sam gazed adoringly at Jessica, running his hands through her hair lovingly, brushing his fingers gently across her cheek. She felt so warm and soft, she seemed to glow as she stood before him, radiating with a kindness that she had always had but seemed somehow brighter now.

"I've missed you so much," Sam whispered.

Jessica smiled.

"I've always been with you," she told him. "But you cant stay with me now, not yet…"

"Why not?"

"Dean needs you," Jessica told him, pointing her hand toward Dean as he stood between Angry Sam and Desperate Dad. "He's desperate, Sam. He'll die without your help, he wont even listen to your dad anymore… he's too angry at him for bringing you here and for not finishing the hunt all those years ago…"

Sam rushed over to his brother as soon as he realised he was in trouble. Even after death, he was still on the hunt, he realised.

"Dean," he greeted his brother gently, not wanting to surprise him.

"Sam?" Dean gasped, his heart already racing the way he imagined Sam's had. "There's two of you?"

"What's going on, Dean?" John asked.

"You let me die! You may as well have pulled the trigger yourself!" Angry Sam stepped toward Dean.

"No!" Sam yelled back at him, standing between him and his brother, protecting him with everything he had left. "Don't even think of touching him!" He turned to face his brother, determined to ignore the evil version of himself. "Dean, don't listen to a word he says, okay? He's not me, he doesn't even know me."

Dean held the gun out in front of him, shaking in his hands. He didn't know why he had grabbed it, wasn't even sure what he intended to do with it. Something about the cold metal in his hands, the same way it had felt when he put his hands on his car, like he was trying to put all the anger into the inanimate object before him.

"Dean, you want to do me a favour?" Sam asked gently, as if the roles had been reversed all those years and he had been the one caring for Dean. Dean looked at him, eager to do whatever he wanted, but he looked down at Sam's body on the ground.

"But you're…"

Sam looked down and sighed.

"I know," he put both his hands on his brothers neck gently, forcing him to focus on what he was saying. "I need you to do me a favour and give Dad the gun and then tell him to find the lighter…"

Dean hesitated and handed the gun to his father who merely accepted it, uncertain of what was going on.

"Dad," Dean said, still not looking away from Sam. "You need to find the lighter…"

John nodded and ran to do as he was told.

"You just gotta hold on a little longer, Dean," Sam told him gently, his voice full of assurance. But suddenly Sam was pushed aside by Angry Sam who was yelling at him again, screaming at him.

"You know you did this on purpose!" Angry Sam screeched. "You could have called Dad sooner and he would have helped you to fix this whole mess, but you waited till it was too late and I was in a coma and now what's happened, Dean?"

"Don't listen to him, Dean!" Sam shouted, hurrying back to his brother.

"Now what's happened, Dean?" Angry Sam shouted again. "I'm dead!"

Dean was backing away from them, his heart pounding harder and his breathing laboured. He sank to the ground, his back against a head stone and watched as John scrambled around looking for a lighter in time to save his last living son, Sam kneeling before him trying to convince him that Angry Sam was wrong, and Angry Sam pacing back and forth screaming at Dean about everything that he had ever done wrong his entire life.

Dean's head was pounding and he was convinced that he would explode before his heart had a chance to give up on him.

"Dean, listen to me," Sam sat right in front of him, recognising the symptoms that Dean was suffering from. They came upon him a lot quicker than they had come over Sam, because his grief was as fresh as it could get. His brother had died only minutes before and Dean had spent over 20 years trying to make sure that that didn't happen. He was overcome and lost and didn't know how to find his way back to reality. Something had to happen really soon or he was going to go completely insane.

Dean's head and heart pounded in rhythm to each other and he wandered whether he would die from a heart attack like his brother, or whether he would have a stroke instead. He didn't care anymore, he just wanted the torment to be over. He was tired, so tired, and he could feel everything slipping away from him.

Sam stood before his brother feeling helpless. He was trying to get Dean to listen to him but the pain he was feeling physically was too much for him. He understood, having just recently gone through and lost the battle, and the grief that Dean must be feeling would feel worse than the physical pain he was in because that's what was causing his symptoms to manifest. Sam had lost the battle and he didn't want Dean to join him.

He looked at Jessica for help, but she was with John. She couldn't communicate with him, but maybe she could help him find the lighter somehow.

"Dean," Sam put his hands on either side of Dean face, turning him to look straight in his eyes. "I'm gonna have to leave you for a second…"

"No," Dean said, sounding weak.

"I have to man, but I'm gonna be right back," he promised him. "I just have to help Dad find that lighter…"

Sam left him reluctantly and went to when Dean had been when he fell. The lighter was missing, it wasn't where Sam had thought it would be and he realised that this was going to be harder than he realised. He kept one eye on Angry Sam as he began tormenting Dean, coming up with all kinds of lies that Sam hoped he realised didn't come from him.

"Sam?" Jessica caught his attention and pointed at the ground. The lighter sat in the long grass beside the grave, glinting lightly from the sun. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. He reached down and tried to pick it up, but couldn't hold it. "Maybe it's too small, too fine a movement?"

"I don't know, Sam, this was always your thing… I didn't even know about it and being dead is still kinda new to me too…"

Sam looked over at his father and wondered whether he could guide him there somehow. He didn't have time to ponder or be subtle, so he rushed to his fathers side and lifting him from his feet by his shirt and tossed him into the soft grass where it was safe, relatively padded, and directly near the lighter.

It worked.

Sam rushed back to his brother while his father lit the lighter and tossed it into the grave. Sam watched as Angry Sam went up in flames and screamed in rage.

"You killed me!!! You killed me!!! ARGH!!!"

And he was gone.

Sam knelt before his brother.

"Dean?" he tried to get his attention, but Dean's eyes were staring off in the distance, he was shaking and holding his shoulder in pain. "Dean, it's over man…"

John was by Dean's side now, too. He checked Dean's shoulder and realised nothing was broken, just badly bruised.

"Come on Dean, on your feet," John insisted, pulling him to stand. They stood before Sam's body, both snapping back painfully fast to reality and not being able to believe what they were going to have to deal with now.

Sam really was gone, what were they supposed to do next? The last remaining Winchester's, tears burning their eyes and their breath catching in their throat, realised that Sam had been right. If he'd survived a little while longer, his symptoms would have disappeared and he would have been fine. Instead he was laying before them, an empty shell and what was worse was Dean could no longer see his spirit. He was gone, he had left him and promised to return, and he never had.

He was gone.

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"Sam?" Jessica called

Sam looked at her as she stood beside him.

"I love you," she told him, smiling with tears shining in her eyes. "I love you so much and that has never changed… and I never blamed you for what happened…" She looked back at Dean and John, causing Sam to look back at them too. "And I want you to stay with me forever…"

"I always wanted to be with you," Sam told her honestly. "Even after you died, part of me always wished I could have died with you… that Dean hadn't come and dragged me out of that fire… I've wondered if it would have been easier, but…" Sam shook his head. "I need to be with my brother and now… it's too late…"

Jessica shook her head.

"No, it's not," she told him.

"What?"

"It's not too late, Sam," she told him, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "This went the way it needed to go, Sam. You were supposed to be a distraction and you were… you distracted the spirit while they dug the grave… you distracted the spirit when it was killing Dean and then helped your dad find the lighter… this is how it had to happen… but now it's over and you need to go home, to your family. You're destined for great things yet to come, Sam, but you have to move quickly."

"But…" Sam looked confused. "I'd be brain damaged from lack of oxygen…"

"Why?"

"Because, I died…"

"You died two and a half minutes ago, Sam… time doesn't exactly pass the same way when spirits are involved sometimes… and in this case…" Jessica sighed somewhat impatiently, as if they were arguing over what movie to see on a Friday night. "Sam, why do you argue with me? Trust me… Go home…"

She kissed him and stepped away from him and before Sam knew what had happened, everything went black once again.

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As Dean and John cried without shame over Sam's body, Sam felt every inch of pain return to him as he awoke with a gasp of air. He sat upright so sharply that the rock digging into his back painfully shifted and made him groan.

"Dean?" he whispered, his voice croaking.

"Sam!" Dean dropped to his brothers side and checked that he wasn't dreaming. John on his other side, Sam grimaced as his entire body ached from the ordeal of the passed week. "Can you move?"

Sam nodded and accepted the hands offered to him by his speechless father and his amazed brother. Once he was on his feet, still somewhat unsteady, John and Dean pulled him into a family embrace and held him so tight that he knew they never wanted to let him go.

"You EVER scare me like that again, kiddo, and you'd better stay dead or I'll kill you!" Dean threatened.

"No, you wont," Sam teased as Dean pulled him away to make sure once again he wasn't dreaming.

"No, I wont…" he agreed.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** They're not my, but oh boy if they were…! ;-)

**A/N:** Sam is being tormented by the woman he loves… is it enough to drive him over the edge or can Dean figure it out in time to save his life? No season two spoilers, coz we live in Australia and we don't have season two yet. 

**Chapter Ten: Farewells & Just Desserts**

Dean and Sam were laying exhausted on their perspective beds back in their motel room. It was well past midnight and John was sealing an envelope and leaving it on the desk for them to find in the morning. He was reluctant to leave them after the ordeal they had been through over the week, but he knew he had to go. They weren't safe with him around, they didn't know what he was up to in his own hunt and he knew they would be concerned, but also become targets themselves.

He approached Sam, the baby in the family, and checked his back. He was laying on his stomach because his back hurt too much, so John lifted his shirt and checked the wound from when he had landed on the rock. The forming bruise was darker than it had been several hours ago and was going to hurt a hell of a lot more in the morning. But otherwise he was healthy and would survive to hunt yet again – although John wondered if that were even a good idea. He had nearly lost both his sons tonight and wandered if he would be able to convince them to give up the hunt… or if he would be able to convince himself to ask them.

He turned to Dean, who was lying on his left side facing Sam's bed, favouring his right shoulder. He checked his injury and realised that he would be very stiff in the morning, but would still survive to fight another day. John couldn't believe how lucky they had gotten today, and after the briefing from Sam and Dean about everything that had happened that John himself had been unable to see, he knew that there had been a lot more working for them than he had ever been aware of.

Sighing deeply, grateful of having spent the last several hours with his injured, yet healthy, sons but knowing that now it had come time to leave. He wished he could stay longer, so they could laugh together and joke and talk about normal things. This week had been so emotional for them, for all of them, that he was certain they would need a break, but knowing the both of them as he did he knew they would just jump right back in and keep up the hunt.

John left, finally resigned to the fact that he must continue. A child prodigy needed his help before he was overcome by a demon who wanted the knowledge he had stored in his mind.

The door closed quietly with a click behind him

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The next morning, Dean awoke moments before Sam, but with their injuries they surfaced around the same time. They were stiff and sore and realised that they were going to be moving a little slower for the next few days.

"Do you think we need a holiday?" Sam asked. When he didn't get a response, he turned to see his brother standing over the table holding an envelop in his hands. It was blank, but Sam knew it was for them.

"You open it," Dean told him, handing the letter to Sam. "I've read enough notes from Dad to last me a lifetime."

Sam opened the letter and scanned it quickly before reading it aloud.

_"Dearest boys, _

_I wish I could have stayed longer but as fellow hunters I know you understand that out there is someone who needs my help, and I cannot let them down. What am I saying? I've spent a lifetime of letting you both down, and it's the greatest regret I could ever hold in my heart. _

_I wanted to wake you before I left, but I knew you needed your rest. I hope you're not too sore this morning, and I hope you are feeling refreshed enough to hear the things that I wish I could have said in person. _

_Sam, you've always been so strong, so kind and so warm to everyone. You've made an amazing difference in this world, even when you weren't hunting. You're such an important part of this family, that when I thought I lost you today I didn't think I could continue. I know Dean thinks I was willing to sacrifice you for the greater good, and I'm sure that my actions after you… died… didn't help my case with him any, but I was suddenly faced with losing my entire family and I knew in my gut that you would want me to do nothing in that moment but protect your brother… so I did. I dug out the grave and did the best I could to save Dean from the same thing that had taken your life. Every move I made was agony knowing that I had failed my youngest son, who had depended on me, and trusted me with his secret… When it was all over, my world was collapsing around me and yet I was thanking God for the fact that He had spared Dean, that he hadn't taken my only other family from me. I couldn't bare to have lost the both of you. Now, honestly, I can put all of that into words, but what I felt when I saw you breathing, when you returned to us from beyond the grave, I couldn't even begin to explain what that felt like or what it meant to me. _

_Dean… my son, my constant ally, the one who never left my side even before our worlds were turned upside by your mothers death… I know you're probably still mad at me, you think I was offering Sammy up to you as a sacrifice to ensure we could get the job done, but I hope you understand now that I believed it was the only way we could save his life. I wont begin to understand how it was that he was returned to us, but I will tell you this right now: You have become a leader in your own right, and I promise that I will always listen to what you have to say from now on, and I will never ever lie to you, under any circumstances. I hope you can forgive me, and I hope that next time we meet, there'll be a hug and no bitterness. You've had more than your fair share of responsibility dumped on your shoulders from such a young age, and for that I'm so sorry. I didn't handle it very well, and I should have figured out a better way. But after everything you've been through, I'm so proud of who you have turned into, and I know that you will be destined to make changes to this world for the better. Both of you. _

_I'll miss you both more than I'll ever be able to explain. _

_Take care of each other above everything else, and I'll hope to see you really soon. _

_Love, Dad."_

Sam folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.

"That wasn't quite what I expected," Dean admitted, taking the letter from his brother and tucking into the laptop bag. He cleared his throat, knowing there was nothing much else they could talk about regarding the letter or their father. They would run into each other again soon, he was sure, and hopefully one day they would have a normally family conversation. Maybe dinner. "So, Sammy, you hungry?"

Sam groaned as he tried to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Hungry?" he hesitated. "Actually, I am hungry…"

"Okay, well lets go get some breakfast and I was thinking, do you want to hang around for another day or two to rest and recuperate?" Dean offered, knowing that they both needed some time before the next hunt.

Sam shook his head.

"Hell no," he stated, as if it were the worst idea in the world. "Rest and recuperate for sure, but here? Get me outta here, man, seriously!"

Dean laughed, knowing that Sam was probably sick to… well, just sick of the place that by now would hold some of the worst memories of his life. He resolved to try and find somewhere peaceful for them to spend the next few days. Somewhere safe and peaceful, for that matter, he decided.

"Food?" Dean reiterated his original plan. They collected their bags and loaded them into the Impala, and after handing their keys in at the reception desk, headed into the centre of town in search of breakfast. "So, do you want to give that bacon and eggs another shot?"

"Nope," Sam shook his head, turned to face the opposite side of the road and pointing at the Ice Cream Place. "I wanna give that Sammy's Banana Split Ala Dean another shot!"

Dean laughed and sighed, following Sam across the road. He couldn't believe how relieved he felt, and in spite of feeling every aching muscle in his body, and the stiffness in his shoulder, seeing the spark in his brothers eye again after what seemed like forever lifted his spirits more than he realised was possible.

An hour later, after working their through their massive breakfast, they were back in the car. Sam was hunting through the road map, trying to find somewhere they could go to relax for a few days, while Dean hunted through his box of cassettes for a particular one. He slipped it in the tape player as Sam folded the map and told Dean their destination.

"No problemo," Dean agreed, thinking the name Silver Waters couldn't be too bad for a town that promised safety and comfort. He turned the key, pumped the gas and sped out of town.

By the time they got to the end of the street, The Yellow Submarine was blaring out of the speakers, causing Sam to give Dean a strange look. He couldn't for the life of him understand what would inspire him to play that particular tape. He was specifically a Metallica type of fan, the Beatles was never on his list. Ever.

"What?" Dean smiled. "My little brother bought it for me…"

Sam laughed and lay back in his seat, realising that in spite of all the pain in their lives – from losing their mother, Jessica and almost each other – they were lucky to have everything they had. And Sam remembered something else, too. There was a special type of passion in his heart that he'd misplaced for so many years, that Dean had always seemed to have. Not just a passion for family, they always shared that, rather a passion for making a difference, for helping people.

A passion for the hunt.

The End.


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